


Forward Momentum

by starlight_sugar



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 76,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4088428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke shakes her head. “It feels like yesterday we were playing in coffee shops. Today we’re competing to record a demo. At this rate, we’ll be in Madison Square Garden in December.”</p><p>In which five college students form a rock band, have debates about pop culture, eat grilled cheese, make good music, and kick some ass along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monty

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, huge thanks to [Aja,](http://evanescentwoodnymph.tumblr.com) [Taylor,](http://mysblink.tumblr.com) [Shawna,](http://theperksofbeingabooknerd.tumblr.com) and [Mori](http://viemaya.tumblr.com) for doing outline read-throughs, checking grammar, and providing support and love as I worked on this. They're all amazing and I couldn't have done it without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific content warnings apply for alcohol, marijuana, homophobia, and racism. All the songs that the band performs are actual songs; links will be provided at the end of the chapter.

**JANUARY 14**

 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Jasper says for the hundredth time. He’s pouting, and even though Monty knows he’s making the right choice, he still wants to give in and unpack and tell Raven she needs to find a different roommate.

“I know,” he says, instead of explaining that even though he doesn’t have to, he wants to. He loves Jasper, and he adores Maya. Maya is sweet and sharp and definitely going to say yes when Jasper invites her to move in later tonight. Monty has spent three years watching them make eyes at (and occasionally make out with) each other. This has been a long time coming.

Monty loves Maya, and he loves Jasper, and they’re great for each other, but he refuses to live with them both. He’s known he was going to move out since Jasper first mentioned that he wanted Maya to move in. It’s nothing personal, but they’d be hard to stomach together 24/7 even if he hadn’t been hopelessly in love with Jasper for most of high school. Even though that crush is long gone, that’s still a situation worth avoiding.

“No, really,” Jasper presses, and there’s a raw note to it that makes Monty look at him. Jasper’s eyes are wide and a little sad. “If you want to stay, then stay. It’s fine.”

The fact that he means it - that he’d suck it up and live with Monty when he’d rather be with Maya - makes Monty square his shoulders and say “No, c’mon, Raven’s waiting.”

Raven’s apartment isn’t far from Jasper’s, and all of Monty’s belongings fit in three suitcases, so Jasper takes two, Monty takes the third, and they walk together. It’s an unnervingly quiet trip. Jasper normally chatters as easily as he breathes, and Monty loves listening to it. But now he has nothing to listen to. In fact, he realizes with a jolt, this is probably his last chance to be alone with Jasper for weeks. They don’t have many classes together - electrical engineering and chemistry don’t exactly overlap - and for the first time since possibly birth, they’re not going to see each other on a daily basis.

Monty racks his brain for something to talk about. There’s no way he’s going to let his last few minutes with Jasper go by in silence. Sports? No, baseball season doesn’t start for a few months. Movies? They haven’t gone together in months. Maya? It’s a good way to be sure that Jasper talks, but Monty’s not ready to listen to that.

Jasper clears his throat loudly, and Monty pulls himself out of his head to look at him. He’s smiling fondly, and it makes Monty’s heart clench. This is what he’s leaving.

“You were talking,” Monty guesses.

“I was talking.” Jasper grins. “But if you’re more concerned with whatever you’ve got going on in your head than making sure we stop in front of the right building, then keep on thinking.”

“The right-” Monty looks up, and they’re indeed in front of Raven’s building. No, wait, his building now. That’s going to take getting used to. “Oh.”

“Let me guess.” Jasper nudges his shoulder. “You’re trying to figure out how to stop global warming with the power of static electricity and forgot to stop walking.”

Monty knows it’s a joke, but he can’t help running through the possibilities in his head. It only takes a second to decide that it’s pointless, but when Monty pulls himself back to reality, Jasper’s smiling at him again.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he laughs, trying to hide the uncomfortable pull in his chest.

“You were just trying to figure it out,” Jasper says, mock-accusingly. “Monty Green, don’t you know how science works?”

“You’re the scientist in this relationship. I’m the engineer.” Monty shrugs. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

Monty met Raven when she showed up to the first day of math class fifteen minutes late, hair falling out of her ponytail and grease smudged across her cheeks. She slid into the seat next to him, out of breath, and he handed her his thermos of coffee. “You’re my new best friend,” she whispered before downing a third of it, and that had been that. Every day, she sat next to him, drank some of his coffee, and argued with him whenever they got different answers on homework problems. She was a good friend.

It’d been easy setting up a move-in date. She knew Jasper, she understood the situation, and she needed someone to help out with rent. (“It’s not that I can’t afford it,” she’d explained to Monty, when he first called her to talk about moving in. “But I have this friend who has a complex about helping people, and also happens to be rich. So she insists on helping me out with the rent. Most of the rent, really.”

“Is that really something worth complaining about?” Monty wondered. He hadn’t grown up as badly as he suspected Raven had, but having someone offer to help with rent didn’t seem like the worst of all fates.

“Would you let Jasper pay your part of the rent because he’s, quote, ‘just worried about your personal finances?’” she asked. Monty considered it and decided that he would hate that, and he stopped asking.) Raven’s name will be the only one on the lease, but Monty will pay her back half of rent and help with groceries and so on.

They already have a system in place. Everything is set. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. So naturally, Monty feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he and Jasper make their way to Raven’s second-floor apartment. He knows, logically, that he has nothing to worry about. Raven is great, and they get along, and her rich friend got them some furniture. He’s still going to see Jasper, either around campus or when one of them visits the other. Hell, Jasper Snapchats him every five minutes when they’re in the same room; there’s no way that’ll change when he moves out. There is nothing to worry about.

“Ready to move in?” Jasper asks, bumping his shoulder against Monty’s, and there’s a quarter-second where Monty is ready to say _no, let’s go home._

Instead, he grins. “Course I am. Let’s get this show on the road.” And he knocks on the door to Apartment 2F.

It feels like a personal victory. He’s lived either with or directly next to Jasper as long as he can remember, and he knows that it’s developed into… not quite codependence, but something close. He relies on Jasper as a constant, something that doesn’t change when every other variable does. And now he’s subtracting the constant and changing the equation. It’s terrifying, of course, but it’s also exciting.

Raven opens the door immediately, smiling broadly at them. “Welcome to _mi casa,_ ” she says, then looks at Monty. “Whoops, _nuestra casa,_ right? Let’s get you moved in. Also, check out all this shit Clarke bought for you.”

Apparently Clarke, the rich friend, had been so excited that Raven was getting a roommate that she’d gone to a Goodwill and bought half the furniture section. Next to Raven’s shitty old couch, there’s a huge, squishy-looking armchair and a coffee table that are definitely new. Monty’s bedroom, formerly Raven’s pseudo-workshop with the random burn marks on the wall to prove it, has not just an already-made bed, but a nightstand and a dresser.

“Remind me to thank Clarke when I meet her,” Monty tells Raven, staring at the new furniture. “How rich is she exactly?”

“Her mom works for the government. And used to be a surgeon. And her dad was a civil engineer with a lot of life savings.” Raven shrugs. “I’ve never asked her, but I think she’s really, really rich.”

“I need a rich friend,” Jasper mutters. He puts the suitcases on top of the dresser, looking around the room speculatively. “Or maybe I need to move in.”

“That would defeat the entire point of all of this,” Monty says reasonably. Jasper pouts at him, and Monty can’t help but stick his tongue out in reply. (Childish? Maybe. Worth watching Jasper and Raven’s faces scrunch up into laughter? Absolutely.)

“Damn it,” Jasper sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So… were you going to unpack now, or later, or did you want help, or…” He pauses, looking at his feet, the ludicrously fluffy pillow, the closet door, anywhere but at Monty.

“Um.” Monty looks at Raven, who offers them both sympathetic looks and makes her way out of the room. No help on that front, then. He looks back at Jasper, who’s now determinedly watching the hardwood floor. “I was going to wait till later tonight. Are you and Maya still having dinner?”

“Yeah, we’re meeting in…” Jasper pulls out his phone. “Shit. Half an hour.” He looks up at Monty, face pained. Monty reads it easily: _I don’t want to leave._ “I mean, this is the night I was going to ask her, I should probably…”

“Yeah, you probably should,” Monty agrees. He’d be embarrassed by how choked up he sounds if Jasper didn’t sound the same. “So… good luck, right?”

“Thanks,” Jasper says. He clears his throat and looks down. “I guess I should…”

Monty rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on.” Jasper looks back up and Monty lunges at him for a hug. Jasper lets out a surprised huff of air and sighs, dropping his face into Monty’s neck.

“I am going to text you every single minute,” he mutters, and Monty tightens his arms around Jasper’s shoulders. “Like, really, you’re going to get a play-by-play of what happens tonight, and of my biochem classes, and everything else.”

“Oh, so nothing’s changing, huh?” Monty manages, voice wavering, and Jasper squeezes him. “I’m going to do the same thing. All the time. We’re going to talk every day.”

“You better believe it,” Jasper answers. They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes and frankly Monty wouldn’t care either way. This isn’t a goodbye, but it’s not an I’ll-see-you-later either. It’s something in between, and he doesn’t want to let it go.

It doesn’t last, of course. Jasper’s phone starts buzzing. He sighs and pulls away, one hand snaking into his pocket as he goes.

Monty reluctantly unwinds his arms from Jasper’s neck. “Maya?”

“Maya.” Jasper pockets his phone again. “She’s going to say yes, right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought she wouldn’t,” Monty tells him honestly. Jasper smiles that slow, grateful smile that he always wears when he remembers that Maya loves him as much as he loves her. “Now go get the girl.”

“I already have the girl,” Jasper argues, but he doesn’t look as torn up as he did a minute ago. “Get ready for me to blow up your Snapchat.”

“I’m always ready for you to blow up my Snapchat.” Monty offers a watery smile. “Have fun.”

Jasper smiles at him, rough around the edges, and nods. “See you… Tuesday, right?”

Monty nods. “Tuesday.” It’s six days away. Normally he’d try to visit before then, but with Maya moving in, he’ll wait for an invitation. He walked in on them having sex enough times when he lived there, he’s not about to risk it now that she lives there. But six days isn’t that long, right? He reaches out and clasps Jasper’s shoulder. “See ya.”

Jasper’s smile blooms into a full-on grin. “Yeah.” He squeezes Monty’s hand on his shoulder and lets go. And then he turns, and leaves, and says goodbye to Raven, and the door opens, and Jasper’s gone.

**  
**

 

 

By the time Raven comes to check on him, Monty has not only unpacked all three suitcases, he’s moved his clothes between the dresser drawers and the closet twice. He’s lying on his bed, glued to his phone, waiting for Jasper to send him anything. Nothing yet, and he feels like he's dying inside.

“You look like your dog died,” Raven says.

“That bad, huh?” He looks over. Raven’s leaning against the doorframe, mouth twisted into something sympathetic. “What’s up?”

Raven holds up a bottle of Bud Light. “You want a drink?”

“I’m not legal yet.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Monty pauses. His parents had never really cared if he drank or smoked weed (they’d be hypocrites if they did) and there wasn’t much else to do where he grew up. But he also had a couple of bad incidents where he’d had too much of one thing or another. He hasn’t had a proper drink since leaving high school.

“Yeah, sure,” he decides. Raven won’t let him drink till he pukes, and he’s sad and a little empty right now. Beer helps that. He slides off the bed, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Do you normally drink at 6:30 on a Wednesday, or is this a special occasion?”

“Little bit of both.” Raven grins. “It’s not every day I can convince Clarke to buy me new stuff. Also, you look like you could really use some beer.” She turns, and he follows her out to their combined living-room-slash-kitchen. “Let me guess, you’ve never lived anywhere but with him?”

“Yep,” Monty admits. “Kinda sad, I know.”

Raven laughs as she goes to the fridge, but she doesn’t sound very happy. “Are you kidding? This is my first apartment away from my childhood best friend. It’s not kinda sad, it’s really sad. Take it from me.”

“Gee, thanks,” Monty says sourly. Raven takes another bottle out of the bridge, grabs a bottle opener magnet off the fridge, and pops the top off. “At least we can be bitter together.”

“I’m mostly not bitter anymore,” Raven answers, holding out the open bottle. Monty takes it wordlessly and takes a long drink. “It’s been a few months. It gets easier.”

Monty hums thoughtfully. “You think it’ll be easier for me because I have a roommate?”

Raven shrugs, pops the top off her own beer, and takes a drink. “So I gotta ask: you’re not legal, and I’ve never seen you drink, but this is definitely not your first time drinking, right?”

Monty is about to ask how she knew when he realizes that his one drink was a quarter of the bottle. “Uh, no. Not even close.”

“When do you turn twenty-one, anyways?” Raven goes back to the fridge, rummages around, and pulls out a pizza box. “It’s gotta be this year, right?”

“March,” Monty answers, reaching for the pizza. “So not far.”

“Not close, either.” Raven takes a bite out of her slice of pizza. “Got any good classes this year?”

Monty shrugs. “Just major classes, I’ll see how they are when the year starts. You?”

“Same. How’s your job?”

“Still lots of broken computers.” Monty used to have full faith in the future of the human race. He wouldn’t say that he’s completely lost that, but working in a tech repair shop has darkened his outlook on life. “How’s yours?”

“Lots of cars, lots of fun.” Raven offers a grin before taking a drink of her beer. She pulls a face. “You know, I hate beer.”

“Which is why you have a full six-pack in your fridge.”

“That’s my friends’ fault. They only drink beer.” Raven pauses. “That reminds me, you shouldn’t expect to see me Sunday or Thursday nights.”

Monty frowns. They’d swapped copies of their regular work schedules, so they knew when to expect each other to be home, but Raven doesn’t work Sundays or Thursdays. “Did your hours change?”

“Nah, I’m-” she laughs quietly. “I’m actually in a band.”

Monty whistles. “No shit? That’s cool. What do you play?”

“Bass. Childhood friend plays drums, and rich friend plays guitar and sings.” Raven smiles, half wistfully. “We’re almost good. It’s fun. We don’t have a name, though.”

“Really?” Monty frowns. He and Jasper have discussed what they’d call their band if they started a trumpet-piano folk duo (Monty’s favorite is “Houston Has Their Own Problems”) but Raven’s band is probably nothing like that. “What kind of music do you play?”

“Rock.” Raven pauses. “Actually, it’s pop-punk-rock… fusion. But Clarke doesn’t have an electric guitar, so we also sound kind of indie.”

“Hm.” Monty contemplates that. “I got nothing.” He takes a bite of pizza, hoping that it’ll give him the perfect band name. No such luck.

Raven shrugs. “We’ve been trying for months, don’t worry about it.”

Monty nods and takes another sip of beer. “So, if you don’t normally drink beer on Wednesday nights, what do you do?”

“Watch Jeopardy and crime dramas.” Raven gestures her beer towards the couch and TV.

Monty, who also spends his Wednesday nights watching Jeopardy and crime dramas, clinks his beer bottle against hers and makes his way to the armchair. Home sweet home.

**  
**

 

 

 **therealjasperj**  
could tell this girl every day how much i love her and still not get tired of it. @cestmayavie

haaaaaarper, noteasybeing_green, cestmayavie, and 17 others like this

 **cestmayavie** <3  
 **itsvickiiii** wow jasper i haven’t seen you since high school! hmu we should catch up!  
 **noteasybeing_green**  You two are saps.  
 **therealjasperj** @noteasybeing_green But you love us anyways.

**  
**

 

 

Monty and Jasper grew up next door to each other in a town that Jasper calls “Bumfuck, Wyoming.” Monty doesn’t understand why, considering that they’re from Missouri. (Maybe calling it Wyoming emphasizes how much nothingness was around them.) There was never anything to do in town, but their windows were across from each other, and they could talk to each other across the gap between their houses. Monty only remembers a handful of days where they didn’t, and that was either because one of them was gone or they were avoiding each other after some pointless argument.

Their parents loved both of them. Jasper’s parents are benevolent, bland school teachers. Monty’s parents are professional stoners, in his opinion, but to the rest of the world they’re geneticists that moved to corn country so they could improve agriculture. He thinks of Jasper’s parents and sister as his family, just as close as his own family.

Of course, being a Korean kid in racist Bumfuck, Wyoming wasn't easy. Monty tried not to let it bother him, but Jasper constantly got in trouble for trying to fight the bullies. He never seemed to care - he gleefully accepted detentions and referrals and everything else the school district could dish out, and kept picking fights.

They’d made it to ninth grade before some assholes tried to physically assault Monty. They cornered him, but he gave as good as he got. Unfortunately, what he got was a black eye and a bloody nose. He’d been home, trying to clean himself up and ice his eye, when Jasper had gotten there, taken one look, and exploded.

“It’s not a big deal,” Monty said, trying not to wince as Jasper adjusted the ice pack. “It happens. I can deal with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Jasper snapped. Monty’s chest twisted into pretzel knots, and that was how he discovered that he was in love with his best friend.

Coming out in high school was never an option. An Asian kid in a white town gets bullied; a queer Asian kid in a straight white town gets killed. He didn’t tell Jasper until they were in college because he knew Jasper would insist that there was nothing to hide or be ashamed of. He’s right, but Monty always placed self-preservation above honesty, and he wanted both himself and Jasper to get out of that town more than he wanted to be out of the closet.

And they did. They applied to most of the same colleges, and Monty refused to admit that he’d gladly turn down any Ivy if Jasper wouldn’t be there with him. Mount Weather University in Virginia accepted them both. It was a fair distance from Missouri, and apparently their engineering program was to die for. The minute they both got their letters, they accepted their admission and never looked back.

That had been the end of the crush. When they committed to going to the same school, Monty looked at Jasper’s grin and thought,  _I’m not in love with you anymore._ It’d been that easy. To this day, he’s not sure why it was that moment, but he’s glad. Being in love with his best friend sucked.

Monty’s also not sure why he didn’t anticipate Maya coming into the picture. Jasper started his quest for the perfect girlfriend when they were thirteen. He always wanted a picture-perfect happily-ever-after. Maya is going to be that for him, Monty is sure of it. From the day Jasper had come back from some science department student mixer professing his undying love for the biotech major he met, Monty knew they’d be perfect together.

It‘s just (and this is the part that he hates thinking about) that Jasper was supposed to be his. It’s selfish, but he always thought he and Jasper were going to be together forever. He loves Maya, and he loves that Jasper loves Maya, and he’s happy for them. He just wishes it was still simple, like it used to be.

**  
**

 

 

From: Jasper (8:23 PM)  
she said yes!!!!!! :D :D :D

To: Jasper (8:24 PM)  
Told you. Congrats. Tell M I say hi.

**  
**

 

 

**JANUARY 17**

 

Monty is pretty adaptable, even if he feels off balance for the first few days. Other than his address, not much changes. He eats, he sleeps, he works, he hangs out with his roommate. It’s just that now it’s Raven and not Jasper. Nothing is different.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Raven tells him on Saturday night, “but you've got to start going out more.”

Yeah, that’s not different, either.

“Classes start in two days,” Monty points out. When classes start and homework kicks in, he won’t have time to mope about how his old apartment is now Jasper and Maya’s apartment. (He’s happy for them, and it’s not like he didn’t move out voluntarily, but he thinks he’s allowed to be bitter on principle. What principle, he’s not sure, but there has to be one. Maybe the principle of “they’ve probably had sex in my old bed by now.”)

“So you’ll have even less of a life than you do right now?” Raven’s eyes narrow. “No doing things? No hanging out with people?”

Monty frowns. “I hang out with people.”

“Only on alternating Tuesdays.”

“And the rest of the time I have you and my co-workers.”

“Including the guy that you described as ‘probable serial killer who won’t leave me alone?’ Does that really count as company?”

Ordinarily Monty would say no, but he’s not in the mood to admit that she’s right. Instead he pointedly turns back to the TV and says, “I don’t think their suspect is the killer, I think it was the neighbor.” He’s fully aware that he’s being a dick, and he feels guilty about it when Raven groans in frustration, but he’d rather just pretend that he’s content with his minimal social life.

Ah, denial. Monty is going to miss it when he caves.

**  
**

 

 

 **haaaaaarper**  
three days till i see my study boys @millernathan @therealjasperj and @noteasybeing_green !! kids that survive terrible classes together stay together! #studygroupssavelives

noteasybeing_green, millernathan, cestmayavie, and 4 others like this

 **therealjasperj**  That is an OLD picture, why would you ever put it up?  
 **haaaaaarper** @therealjasperj #tbt to dr tsing’s class?  
 **noteasybeing_green** @haaaaaarper it’s Saturday.  
 **haaaaaarper** @noteasybeing_green killjoy. #tbs doesn’t have the same ring to it.

**  
**

 

 

**JANUARY 20**

 

When Monty and Jasper were picking classes for their second semester of freshman year, they discovered Dr. Tsing’s Human Biology and Report Composition class. It fulfilled a school-required biology credit, but it had so many essays and lab reports that somebody had complained to MWU and got it to count as an English 102 equivalent. They hadn’t thought twice before signing up - two birds, one stone and all that.

The first sign that they’d made a mistake was when Jasper told Maya that they’d signed up and she said that she would really miss them when they were gone. Given how dramatic Maya normally wasn’t, Monty realized that they were probably fucked.

Dr. Tsing’s class had almost a hundred people in it on the first day. On the second, the number had dropped below fifty, and by the third, there were only two dozen. (That was the second sign.) By the fourth day, Monty was committed to finishing the class. He’d already made it through one lab and an essay - no point in quitting.

The fourth day was also when Dr. Tsing began targeting students. She began singling out one girl that Monty recognized from his first-semester English class. She was smart, but science clearly wasn’t her forte, and Dr. Tsing was terrorizing her. Naturally, Monty jumped in, interrupted her, and asked something ridiculous and mostly off-topic to distract her. Blonde girl mouthed _thank you_ at him from across the room, and Dr. Tsing gave him an extra essay assignment for that weekend. It was totally worth it, even if the essay sucked ass.

In a show of solidarity, he and Jasper started sitting next to the blonde girl (Harper, a sharp-minded business major who needed the double-requisite to graduate in four years) and so did a guy with an impressive array of beanies (Miller, a sarcastic psych major whom Monty recognized from their first-year seminar). They were the only students who sat together. They were also the only ones that didn’t dread the class.

The study group was Harper’s idea. “We’re already barely scraping by in class by sitting together,” she reasoned. “Why not barely scrape by this test by working together?” And so began the Tuesday night study group. The group was the only reason Monty got a B in the class, and even then he thinks that was the lowest grade Dr. Tsing could give him without actually tampering with his assignments.

The class ended, but the study group didn’t. It morphed into less of a study group and more of a coffee meeting at the cafe where Miller works, but it persisted through harder classes and becoming biweekly rather than weekly. Monty hopes that it’ll survive him moving apartments, too.

The coffee shop, Grounders, is barely off campus, but far enough that when his class lets out at 4:25 on the first Tuesday of the semester, Monty knows he has to book it to get there by 4:30. It’s January in Virginia, which means it’s pretty damn cold, so he slings his bag over his shoulder, huddles into himself, and starts walking. He’s just outside the edge of campus and heading towards town when someone calls out, “Monty! Hey!”

Monty turns and sees Harper, pink-cheeked and blue-scarfed, hurrying towards him. She smiles as she gets closer. “Happy new year!”

“Happy new year, H.” He pulls her in for a hug. “How was break?”

“Awesome, thanks!” Harper gives Monty a quick, cold kiss on the cheek and leans back. “I spent the whole time filling out internship applications so I have somewhere to work over the summer.”

“Yeah?” He bumps his shoulder against hers as they start walking, slower now that they’re together. “Any luck?”

“Well, have you ever heard of a little company called Grant-Allen?”

“What, the appliance company?” Monty glances over at Harper and sees that her smile is practically incandescent. “Holy shit, Harper! When do you start?”

“Not till June, it’s a summer position. But I’ve got the spot guaranteed!” Harper claps her hands together, beaming at him.

“Congratulations,” Monty tells her, hoping she can tell how much he means it. He’s always suspected that Harper would be the first out of the group to get her shit together, and now she’s proving him right. “That’s incredible, you’re going to be great.”

“Thank you! Oh, but it’s a surprise!” Harper’s hands drop back to her sides. “I was going to say it over coffee, but I figured I might as well tell you now.”

“I’m glad you did.” They stop at the street corner, right in front of Grounders. "Ready to do some catching up?"

"Says the only one of us who sees another group member regularly.” At Monty’s blank look, she snickers. “Jasper? Your roommate? Remember him?”

Oh. Right. Harper and Miller don't know yet. Not everyone's world got flipped on its side during the move.

"Yeah," Monty says, kind of pathetically, as he opens the door. The roommate thing either will or won't come up in conversation today, and whichever it turns out to be, Monty will be okay with it.

Grounders is a hole in the wall. There’s plenty of space, but the ceilings are low. The lights perpetually seem like they’re about to burn out, flickering yellow against the ugly dirt-red walls. It feels like a cave, with good coffee and artsy black-and-white photos of rock bands framed on the walls. Monty loves it more than it deserves to be loved.

Jasper has his feet kicked up on their regular table, leaning back in his chair as he fiddles with his phone. When he sees them, he swings his legs down and grins. "It's about time!"

"Yeah, really," Miller adds from behind the counter. "I'm not even working today and I was ready to start serving customers."

"It's 4:32," Monty points out, even though he knows it’s pointless. "We're not really late."

"I was here first," Jasper declares, standing up. "I beat Miller here. He works here."

"Miller's not working today," Harper reminds him.

"And yet he made us all drinks," Jasper says, lifting his own cup. "Which means that I'm going to be nice to him for being late."

"He only got here first because I held the door open for him," Miller announces. "Also, in the spirit of Christmas, drinks are on me today."

"What, no way!" Harper protests. "This is your job, you can't pay for drinks that you made."

"Nope, too late, already done." Miller shrugs. "Sorry, Harp, looks like you're just gonna have to pay for mine next time."

"Ugh, you bastard!" Harper laughs and finally steps forward to give Miller a hug. "How was your break?"

"What break? I worked the whole time." Miller gives Harper a visible squeeze before letting go. She goes to Jasper, and Miller turns to Monty, arms still open.

Monty, who would be an idiot to refuse a Miller hug (they're second only to Jasper hugs, and that's because Jasper hugs have a lot of childhood nostalgia), goes in without hesitation. Miller is much, much warmer than the cold outside, and Monty has to stop himself from clinging to him. Instead, he pulls away and smiles. "You think you got my drink right?"

"I had Jasper help me this time," Miller says smugly. "It took two years, but we got it."

Monty raises his eyebrows. "I'll be the judge of that." Miller is chronically incapable of making Monty's double-shot latte with the perfect caramel-coffee ratio. He thinks that it legitimately bothers Miller, but it's his drink and he doesn't mind.

"Ooh, this'll be good," Harper says brightly. Last semester, she invented the Green Scale, a way of measuring how close Miller had come to the perfect drink based on what she calls "Monty's weird micro-expressions that he makes the first time he takes a drink." Monty doesn’t know what she means, but the Green Scale is frighteningly accurate. It's best to just accept that Harper knows what she's talking about.

"Nah, he got it this time," Jasper says firmly. "I'm sure of it."

"I'll be the judge of that," Monty laughs. Christ, he missed this over break.

Miller hands him a cup, smarmy look already in place. "Then judge away."

Monty's eyes flick from Miller to Harper to Jasper to the cup. "This is a bizarrely high-pressure situation."

"And you're dragging it out," Harper says.

"Good point," Monty concedes, and takes a drink. It's not exactly like the ones from the library cafe back in Bumfuck, Wyoming, but then again, nothing is. Either way, it's pretty damn good.

"Harp?" Miller says impatiently.

"I like it," Monty interjects. As far as he’s concerned, his opinion of his coffee outweighs Harper’s view of his opinion.

"I think that's the first ever perfect score," Harper announces.

Miller doesn't actually cheer, but Monty thinks that he would if there weren't other customers there. Instead he half-smiles, painfully smug, and high-fives Jasper. “Thanks, man.”

“Hey, anything for Monty’s coffee, right?” Jasper hooks his arm through Monty’s. “All right, sitting time, c’mon, it’s been six weeks, time to catch up.” He tugs Monty over to the table and pushes him into a chair, elbows still linked. Miller gives Harper her drink and an inscrutable look before they take a seat.

“Well, like I said, nothing happened for me,” Miller announces. “I didn’t go home, all my classes are decent, textbook prices are disgusting. Nothing important.”

Monty nods. “Ditto. I went home, nothing happened, I came back, my coworkers are the same as ever.”

“Including the serial killer?” Harper asks.

“Especially the serial killer.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that you think one of your coworkers is a serial killer?” Miller demands. “Just a little bit cop-worthy?”

Monty shrugs. “Ever since Connor and Myles quit, he’s gotten a lot less creepy. Harper, how was your break?”

Harper smiles at him appreciatively before leaning in. “Alright, so like I said in December, my winter break plans were internship applications, right? Trying to find somewhere for the summer.”

Jasper blinks and sits up a little straighter. “You found somewhere?”

“Yeah, you might've heard of it. It’s called Grant-Allen,” she announces brightly.

There’s a beat of silence before Miller whips around and stares at her. “Grant-Allen like the giant kitchen appliance company?”

“Who needs a few extra hands over the summer,” she finishes, beaming at Miller. “So it looks like I’m spending three months as a part of the company!”

“Harp, what the hell!” Miller swings an arm around her shoulders. “That’s great news, congratulations!”

“Yeah, H, that’s so cool!” Jasper chimes in. “Where are you going to be?”

“Chicago, at the headquarters. I get a stipend and an apartment.” Harper clasps her hands together. “It’s like a dream come true.”

“And you earned it,” Miller says warmly. “You’re going to be one hell of a business executive. Remember us when you’re running some kind of insurance firm.”

Harper wrinkles her nose. “Why would I run an insurance firm?”

“You’d be good at it,” Monty points out. “If you wanted to, you could run the world.”

“So could you.” Harper raises her eyebrows. “Hack Google and take over everyone’s Chrome accounts? You’ve never thought of it?”

Monty, more out of curiosity than any actual ambition, runs through it in his head. “Maybe,” he says thoughtfully. Harper giggle-snorts, Jasper elbows his ribs, and even Miller throws a half-exasperated, half-fond look his way.

“And last but not least, Jasper.” Harper picks up her drink and gestures towards him. “Other than going back to Wyom-braska with Monty, how was break? And how’s Maya?”

Jasper takes a lazy, long drink from his hot chocolate. “We’re from Missouri.”

“Which you call Wyoming,” Monty reminds him.

“For dramatic effect!”

“There’s nothing dramatic about Wyoming.”

“That’s exactly the effect I’m going for.”

Monty rolls his eyes. “Quit complaining about the bastardization of our terrible home state and talk about your break.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jasper sets the hot chocolate down. “So, as far as big news go… I asked Maya to move in with me.”

Harper’s jaw drops and Miller’s eyebrows raise. Monty could not have asked for better reactions.

“She said yes,” Jasper adds quickly. “So she’s all moved in now.”

“Congrats,” Harper says, voice strained. “That’s… really cool.”

“Yeah, that’s great and all,” Miller adds, “but we’ve been to your place. And it’s really, really small.”

This is true; it’s barely a step up from a studio. He can also tell where they’re going with this. Jasper cannot tell, judging by the confusion written across his face.

“Ooooookay,” Jasper says slowly. “And…?”

“And how are all three of you going to live in the same place?” Miller asks.

“Three-” Jasper turns to Monty. “You didn’t think that was important enough to mention?”

Monty shrugs. “We’ve all moved before, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Moved?” Harper echoes. “Wait, Monty, did you move out so Maya could move in?”

“Not just because of that,” Monty protests. It’s a blatant lie, but Harper and Miller would throttle him if he moved out just for Jasper and Maya’s sake. “I have a friend who needed a roommate to help with the rent, and her place is way bigger. It’s a win-win.”

Harper settles back, looking mollified, but Miller seems unconvinced. “You know you could’ve called one of us, right?”

“Absolutely,” Monty lies. Harper’s apartment is even smaller than his old one with Jasper, and Miller has two roommates already, and they’re both better off without him moving in. They would’ve let him, sure, but Raven actually needed a roommate, and that’s more important.

“His roommate’s badass,” Jasper cuts in. “She’s a mechanic.”

“And she’s in a rock band,” Monty adds.

“Okay, that’s pretty cool,” Miller allows. “She’s good people?”

“She’s great people. Don’t worry about me, I’m set.”

Miller’s expression smooths over. “If you say so.”

“So is anyone else keeping big secrets because they don’t think it’s a big deal?” Harper turns to Miller, eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me, you published a paper over break and now everyone in the psychology world is calling you the modern Freud.”

Miller snorts. “I wouldn’t let them call me that, Freud was a dick. And no, the most interesting thing that happened was Drew trying to bleach his hair and almost burning the building down instead.”

“What?” Jasper laughs. “No way.”

Miller nods, mock-serious. “On Christmas.”

“Okay, you have to tell that story,” Harper says, grinning. Miller’s eyes slide from her to Jasper to Monty, who gestures for him to go on.

Miller leans forward. “All right, so it all started with his little brother, right?”

**  
**

 

 

**JANUARY 23**

 

From: Raven (6:17 PM)  
gna be home late

From: Monty (6:19 PM)  
Cool. You gonna need dinner?

From: Raven (6:23 PM)  
not if you’re cooking

From: Monty (6:24 PM)  
Ouch

**  
**

 

 

Monty hates textbooks. He hates technical jargon and fine print and boring examples. He has to read them out loud to focus on them, muttering under his breath as he goes. Jasper used to tease him for it, but Raven doesn’t care. This is why, when Raven gets home from class, he doesn’t pause in muttering about control systems.

“Is this how he normally says hello?” says someone who is decidedly not Raven.

Monty pauses. “Well, yesterday, I was reading my communications textbook.” He sets the book down and turns around. Raven is closing the door, but she smiles at him over her shoulder. With her, she has a bag of take-out, a blonde woman with watercolor tattoo sprawling across her collarbone, and a man with floppy hair and a bright smile.

“Is this rich friend and childhood friend?” he guesses, standing to his feet.

“Yup,” Raven answers, heading to the kitchen. “Friends, roommate, roommate, friends.”

The blonde woman smiles. “I’m Clarke. I’m assuming I’m rich friend?”

“If you’re the one who paid for the bed and that armchair, you are.” Monty shakes her hand and smiles back. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Thanks for moving in.”

“Yeah, we’re glad Raven has someone to remind her to sleep,” childhood friend adds. Monty turns to him, hand still held out, and he shakes it. “I’m Finn.”

“Monty.”

Finn smiles, then turns towards the kitchen. “By the way, why am I childhood friend? That doesn’t sound as cool as rich friend.”

“Uh, because we grew up together?” Raven says. “And I’ve known you since childhood?”

“Yeah, but why not… badass friend, or something?”

Raven returns from the kitchen with the takeout and some paper plates. She sets them on the coffee table and turns to Finn, looking unimpressed. She points at him. “Librarian.” She points at Clarke. “Tattoo artist. If either of you would be the badass friend, it’d be her.”

“But I’m a sexy librarian! I’m even sexier than Marian the librarian from The Music Man.”

“Yeah, you’ve got better curves, too,” Monty says. Clarke barks out a laugh, and Raven cracks a smile.

Finn stares at him for a few seconds. “Nice,” he says at last. “I see why Raven likes you.”

“Yeah, that’s why I brought him surprise Chinese food.” Raven frowns at him. “You ate something today, right?”

“Yeah, breakfast,” Monty tells her. He’s pretty sure he actually did, too.

“Good job. C’mon, we’ve got orange chicken.” She grabs his and Clarke’s elbows and pulls them down onto the couch on either side of her. “It’s Friday, what’s on TV?”

“I dunno, let’s find out.” Finn picks up the remote and turns the TV on. “CSI?”

“Sure,” Monty says, at the same time that Clarke says “Absolutely not.” He turns to her in surprise; she shrugs. “The two of them can never agree on what they think happened. It sucks the fun out of it when they’re arguing the whole time.”

“We’ll keep it to the commercials,” Raven offers. “It’ll be fine.”

Clarke sighs. “You’d better.” Finn perches on the arm of the couch, next to Clarke. Raven hands a plate to Monty, who goes immediately for the kung pao chicken. It’s easy to lose himself in the plot and banter of the episode. And then --

“It was the best friend,” Finn says, as soon as the commercials start, and Raven almost drops her plate in whirling around to say “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Clarke leans forward, out of yelling range, and offers Monty the best I told you so look he’s ever seen. He pulls a face, trying to say _yeah, you did, this is ridiculous, how did you live with them both_ in one expression. He must succeed, because Clarke grins at him before going back to her chow mein. Monty counts that as a win.

**  
**

 

 

 **rockin_raven**  
csi, chinese, and cool people. perfect friday night. @cgriffin @notfinncollins @noteasybeing_green

therealjasperj, notfinncollins, and 13 other like this.

 

 **cgriffin** started following you.  
 **notfinncollins** started following you.

**  
**

 

 

**JANUARY 24**

 

“I think this is the longest I’ve ever seen you take to fix something,” Murphy says thoughtfully. “Is the mighty Monty Green finally stumped by technology?”

Monty absently flips Murphy off. They’re in the back room of TekFix, an abominably-named appliance repair shop that has brought Monty several paychecks and household appliances. The previous owners had had an appliance recycling service, so people think they can drop off their broken shit to be recycled. Monty realized that most of it got junked, and also that he could fix it and get dibs.

Murphy thinks he’s amazing. For all that Monty calls him a serial killer, he really doesn’t mind Murphy very much. He’s a bit of a dick, sure, but Monty is a dick right back at him. (Not to mention, Murphy has paid Monty to fix random kitchen appliances in his apartment. Extra money is always nice.)

“No, seriously, can you even play that?” Murphy adds.

Monty shrugs, looking down at the electric keyboard. “I played a lot in high school, but not after graduating. If nothing else, I can give it to my roommate for the band.”

Murphy snickers. “Jasper’s in a band? Seriously?”

Monty, who remembers Jasper playing trumpet all through high school, bursts into internal laughter. “God, no. I moved, I have a new roommate.” He leans in to examine the wires, lifting his pocket scissors as he does. “Pass me the duct tape?”

Murphy hands it over. “Do you actually use all the things you fix here?”

“What else would I do with them?”

“I dunno, give them to charity? I thought this was just about proving you could do this.”

Monty snorts. “I’d be a terrible electrical engineer if I couldn’t fix a couple toasters and a keyboard.”

“Technically, you’re not an electrical engineer at all. You're a cashier.”

“At a technology store. And I’m going to be an electrical engineer, so I might as well figure out how to engineer electronics.”

“Makes sense.”

After that, Murphy falls silent, watching him intently. Monty can’t tell if it’s because he wants to learn how to fix his own things or because there’s nothing better to do. Either way, he doesn’t care enough to ask.

“What time is it?” he asks absently, taping two wires together.

“It’s eight. Shift’s over. You can leave as soon as you’re done.”

“Like right now?” Monty drops the wires, flips a switch, and taps a key. A perfectly synthesized note sings out.

Murphy shakes his head. “I swear to God, you’re some kind of fucking wizard.”

“Damn straight,” Monty answers, closing the panel that hides the wiring. “Hey, did this come in with a stand of some kind?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it.” Murphy stands up straight. “Play me something pretty when I come back.” Monty rolls his eyes. Murphy chuckles and disappears into the store, leaving Monty staring down at the keyboard. Tentatively, he lays his hands over the keys, trying to remember how to play something. It’s been a long time since he had a piano, and he can't think of anything yet.

“Nothing?” Murphy says, returning with the stand. “Here, let me play.” He reaches for the keys.

“Do not play Chopsticks,” Monty orders.

Murphy pulls his hands back.

**  
**

 

 

Monty has a lot of Saturday nights home alone. Normally, they’re not sad unless he makes them sad, and that tends to involve either marijuana or realizing that his only company is a true crime marathon. But out of all of his Saturday nights, he thinks that this - alone in his apartment, staring at the keyboard - might be the saddest.

The way Monty sees it, he has until Raven gets home to either relearn the piano or figure out where to hide it. If she comes home and sees it, she’s going to want him to play it. If not, he’ll just hide it until he can play. He knows he should be able to play, but he never had any formal training beyond YouTube, and he feels uncoordinated and clunky whenever he thinks about anything he used to play. Tentatively, he puts his thumb down on middle C but doesn’t press. He looks down at the keyboard and wills himself to remember anything, _anything_ other than Heart and Soul.

After a solid three minutes of staring at his right hand, Monty sighs. Looks like his return to the piano will be the single most annoying song a pianist can play. Great.

He turns the volume output down as low as it goes. He takes a deep breath. And he plays Heart and Soul. Damn it, he plays it twice. He plays Chopsticks, too, because he might as well ensure that he’s going to piano hell. And Monty looks down at his hands spread across the keys and thinks _oh, right._ Every memory comes back to smack him upside the head, and he launches into a slow, clumsy rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon in D.

He misses notes, but then he plays it again, much faster, and doesn’t miss nearly as many. By the time he launches into Someone Like You, it feels like he never stopped playing. It’s like riding a bike, he figures. You never forget, even though getting on a bike for the first time might involve falling on your face.

After a while, he pulls out his phone and starts Googling songs from the radio. He’s picking at the chords to a Bruno Mars song, humming tunelessly, when he hears “What the hell!”

Monty jumps, thankfully without knocking either the piano or himself off balance, and looks at Raven. She’s in the doorway, staring at him like he brought Christmas home eleven months early.

“Um,” he says eloquently. “Fix any good cars today?”

“You didn’t tell me you could play piano,” Raven accuses, sounding both indignant and impressed. “Where did you get that?”

“Someone dropped it off to be recycled at the store.” Monty shrugs. “I haven’t really played since high school, but I still know how.”

“Holy shit,” Raven laughs. She drops her bag to the couch and walks over to the keyboard, running her hands along the sides. “Monty, oh my God, you have to join the band!”

“You barely heard me play.”

“We have practice tomorrow, you can come!”

“Finn and Clarke?”

“Clarke thinks that we need a piano to round out our sound, and whatever Finn thinks, we’ll outvote him.” Raven crosses her arms resolutely, and Monty realizes that the question isn’t whether or not he wants to go to band practice. The question is whether he goes willingly or not. “Just one practice?”

“Do you guys perform often?” Monty asks warily. He’s not ready to commit to playing concerts every weekend.

“Never. And we only practice two days a week.” Raven leans in across the keyboard. “Please?”

Monty sighs. “One practice. And then we’ll go from there.”

“Awesome.” Raven smiles warmly. “Okay, my turn, move over. I’ve got a little piece I want to play for you.”

“Is it Heart and Soul?” Monty asks warily.

Raven scoffs. “What do you think I am, an animal? No way.”

It’s Chopsticks.

**  
**

 

 

**JANUARY 25**

 

“Knock, knock,” Raven calls as she opens the door to Finn and Clarke’s apartment. “Brought him!”

Finn is busy setting up his drum set, but he flicks a wave over his shoulder. Clarke looks up from tuning her guitar and smiles at them. “Hey, how was the walk?”

“Still two blocks, still not bad.” Raven goes over to an amp off to the left, with a dinged-up bass leaning against it. Monty closes the door to the apartment and takes a moment to look around. Knowing that Clarke is the kind of person who buys her friends furniture to celebrate a new roommate, Monty is unsurprised to discover that the apartment is huge. There’s no rehearsal space in his apartment with Raven, but with all the furniture pushed against one wall, this place has more than enough space.

“Monty, you can set up next to Finn,” Clarke instructs. “And Raven, move forward a little?”

Monty slips to the back of the group, keyboard tucked awkwardly under his arm. He has no idea what to expect; even Raven had admitted that he was the first new person they’d even considered auditioning for the band. He sets up quickly, silently hoping that he doesn’t have the mental lapse that he has yesterday. That would be bad to do in front of people.

Clarke continues tuning her guitar, and Raven starts in with her bass. Monty takes the opportunity to start running through the chords to his audition song. It’s not hard, but this is no time to feel under-prepared.

“You ready?” Raven asks, pulling him out of practice mode. Monty looks up and nods. Raven turns to Clarke. “All right, you want to run this?”

Clarke nods. “Monty Green, we’ve brought you here today to audition you for…” she pauses, eyes flitting to Raven. “What name are we using right now?”

“Raven and the Reyeses?”

“Nope. Finn?”

“I like Bridge Bomb,” Finn offers, twirling one drumstick around his fingers.

“You’re the only one,” Raven says, mock-apologetic in the way that only close friends can be. Finn flips her off nonchalantly.

Clarke sighs and turns back to Monty. “For this band, name pending. You play us a song and if you don’t suck, you’re in. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Monty affirms, flipping the keyboard on.

“You can turn that up, by the way,” Raven says. “This place is soundproofed.”

Monty raises his eyebrows at Clarke. “You got your apartment soundproofed?”

“No, it actually came like this. Pretty shady, right?”

“You weren’t calling it shady last Stanley Cup when you were screaming at the TV,” Finn mutters.

“I stand by my screaming. Monty, you ready?”

Monty turns the volume up on the keyboard and glances at Raven. “You’re still singing?”

“If you’re playing.”

“Awesome.” Monty taps a few notes, just as a sound check, and looks back up at Clarke. “So. Imagine Dragons.”

“Nice,” Finn says appreciatively. “Go for it.”

“Did you tell him we’re a rock band?” Clarke asks Raven skeptically.

“We’re kinda pop-indie-rock,” Raven points out. “And this is pop rock. He makes it sound good.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Monty replies in a monotone. Raven rolls her eyes but shifts her bass and gestures for him to start. He listened to the radio in 2013, just like everyone else, which means he could sing Radioactive in his sleep. Playing it is trickier, but only because it’s new.

Raven comes in right on time when he hits the verse. “I’m waking up to ash and dust-”

“Can you jump in?” Clarke says. Monty doesn’t look up to see what she means. Just because the song is easy doesn’t mean it has to be boring. He knows enough music theory to improvise on chords, and that takes focus.

“--the chemicals,” Raven sings, and stops. Monty would ask why, but he’s trying to show off with an arpeggio, and before he can, Finn is playing too. His tempo’s just a couple clicks faster than Monty’s, and he rushes to compensate, slipping between Finn’s beats easily till they have a steady rhythm going.

“I’m breaking in, shaping up,” Clarke sings, guitar hanging at her side. Her voice is nothing like Raven’s - it’s clearer, brighter, and better suited for melody than harmony. Monty listens appreciatively for a moment before returning to his part, more focused than before. Finn has a solid sense of tempo, and it keeps Monty honest. They hit the chorus easily, Clarke singing and Raven humming along.

“All right, stop,” Clarke says as soon as the first chorus is over. Monty stops immediately, with Finn a second after. She looks over at Monty, smiling. “We rehearse Sunday and Thursday, from 6 to 8:30. You can leave your keyboard here if it’d be easier than carrying it. You’re in if you want in.”

“Seriously?” Monty stares at her. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’ll transcribe all the chords to all of our songs, Raven already has mp3s of them that you can listen to, and you’re set.”

“We should add Radioactive to the set list,” Raven muses. “That was damn good.”

“So you’re in?” Finn clarifies. “We should do that again, just to be sure.”

And that’s how Monty joins a rock band.

**  
**

 

 

From: cgriffin@mwu.edu  
To: mgreen@mwu.edu  
Subject: Songs

Have fun.

Attachments: BID chords.docx, Redo chords.docx, BB chords.docx

From: mgreen@mwu.edu  
To: cgriffin@mwu.edu  
Subject: Re: Songs

Thanks. You too.

Attachments: radioactive chords.docx

**  
**

 

 

 **noteasybeing_green**  
Music, music, music. #practicemakesperfect

therealjasperj, cgriffin, and 5 others like this

 **haaaaaarper** what!! text meeeee  
 **cestmayavie** looks fun!

**  
**

 

 

**JANUARY 30**

 

Monty opens the door to the apartment, and Raven yanks him inside, barely closing the door behind him.

“Uh, hi,” Monty says, and then, quite reasonably, “What are you doing?”

“You’re in a band now,” Raven says, giving him a significant look.

“Um.”

“That means that we have to have jam sessions.”

“Our instruments are still at Clarke and Finn’s place.”

“Okay, fine, we'll have a session where we listen to the songs until we’re both sick of hearing them, how about that?”

Monty stares at her, brow furrowing. “...why?”

Raven huffs exasperatedly. “Oh my god, Monty, Fridays are the only nights where neither of us have work or band practice, and we live together. We should hang out.”

Monty considers it for a minute. He and Jasper never really had to hang out, but this isn’t Jasper, and there’s no reason not to hang out. He likes Raven. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Awesome, I made grilled cheese. Now it’s a real party.”

Monty silently curses college for ruining his definition of “party” before following her into the kitchen. “What do people normally do when they hang out, again?”

Raven looks at him incredulously. “You aren’t seriously that antisocial, are you?”

Monty shrugs. “How many people really want to hang out with the computer kid in the marching band?”

“You were in marching band?”

“Are you really surprised?”

“What’d you play? No, wait, let me guess.” Raven taps her chin, eyes narrowing. “Clarinet.”

“Nope.”

“Trumpet.”

“That was Jasper.”

“...French horn?”

“Three strikes, you’re out. Marimba.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Pit percussion for life.” Monty reaches around Raven to grab a grilled cheese. “I’d demonstrate, but there’s a stunning lack of public access marimbas.”

“Yeah, funny how that works.” Raven rolls her eyes. “I changed my mind, we’re not doing music. We’re going to watch cop TV.”

“Again?”

“We can bond over Spencer Reid’s cheekbones. C’mon.” Raven heads out to the couch, taking the plate of grilled cheese with her. Monty’s about to follow, but first he takes a bite of his own grilled cheese, and his eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

Raven looks over her shoulder. “What?”

“This is amazing, what did you put in it?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Your grilled cheese recipe is a secret? Why? Can't you tell me?”

Raven laughs at him. Monty would complain, but he’d rather eat the grilled cheese, so that’s exactly what he does.

 

 

 

**FEBRUARY 3**

 

Harper is already waiting for Monty when he reaches the edge of campus. Her arms are folded, and she’s giving him her best glare. (The glare isn’t intimidating, but the fact that she’s trying is.)

“Whoa, what’d I do?” he asks, coming to a stop a few feet from her.

Harper’s scowl deepens.“So, your Instagram.”

“My Instagram,” Monty repeats.

“It has a lot of pictures of musical instruments. And people playing them.”

“...and?”

Harper smacks his arm, her face finally melting into a smile. “And you didn’t tell us you joined a band, asshole!”

“It’s only been a week,” Monty protests, starting towards Grounders. Harper ambles alongside him. “I wasn’t in the band last Tuesday.”

“We exist the other six days of the week,” Harper mutters. “Did Jasper know?”

“Yeah, and he’s been trying to get us to name the band chemistry puns.”

“Chemistry puns?”

“My favorite was Fluorine and the Machine.”

Harper groans. “How have you put up with him your whole life?”

“Never had a choice.” Monty shrugs. “He was always just sort of there.”

“You’re a saint.”

“It’s not so bad. Sometimes he buys me presents, that’s nice.”

“So sweet,” Harper says drily. “What about Miller?”

Monty pauses in consideration. “Maybe? He follows me too, he could’ve seen it.”

“And you just have something against talking to us?”

“Nah, I just don’t talk to most people.”

Harper rolls her eyes as Monty opens the door to Grounders. “Well, you should maybe start. We like you, too.”

“Agreed,” Jasper says from the table, tapping at his phone. “Not that I know what you’re talking about.”

Harper sticks her tongue out at him, and when he looks up enough to see it, he sticks his right back out.

“So I guess we’re on babysitting duty,” Miller tells Monty as he hands him a cup of coffee.

Monty flashes him a grateful smile as he takes it. “Depends on whether or not they grow up in the next two minutes.”

“This hasn’t happened in a while, I thought they were getting better.”

“It’s been a year, we were due.” Monty takes a sip of the coffee. It’s just as good as the last cup. “You’re getting the hang of this caramel thing.”

“I’d be a terrible barista if I couldn’t.” Miller grins, and it’s so bright that Monty can’t help but grin back. Miller’s hugs are great, but Miller’s smiles are better.

“Hey, if you two are done, this is normally a four-person thing,” Jasper says. When Monty and Miller look over, Harper is sitting next to Jasper, looking at his phone. “I’ve already got our first conversation topic lined up.”

Monty glances at Miller, who looks as wary as Monty feels. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he says cautiously, starting towards the table and sitting across from Jasper. Miller takes the seat next to him and leans back, arms crossed. “What are we talking about?”

Jasper leans forward, looking directly at Miller. He jerks a thumb at Monty. “Did you know he joined a rock band?”

“He joined a what?” Miller says incredulously.

“Great,” Monty mutters.

“He apparently only bothered to tell me, and left the rest of the world to find out through Instagram.”

“Which is how I found out,” Harper interjects.

“But that’s not my point.” Jasper pauses dramatically. “The band needs a name.”

Monty groans. “This again?”

“I still say Density’s Child.”

“Can we go back to the part where Monty’s in a rock band? Because I totally missed that.” Miller turns to Monty, eyes alight with interest. “What kind of stuff do you play?”

“Anything.” Monty shrugs. “We’ve got obscure pop, popular pop, indie rock, take your pick.”

“Are you good?”

“I mean, I like us.”

“Who all is ‘us’ anyways?” Harper asks, scrolling through something on her phone. Probably Monty’s Instagram.

“My roommate Raven, and a couple of her friends, Finn and Clarke.”

“Which one is which?” Harper holds out her phone to him and Miller. It’s a picture from Monty’s Instagram. The focus is on Clarke, laughing at something Finn was doing, but Raven and Finn are in the edges of the picture.

“The one on the left is Finn, he’s our drummer. The blonde one is Clarke, our singer and guitarist.”

“Nice tat,” Miller notes.

“Yeah, that’s her job. I can hook you guys up if you ever want one. And the bass is Raven.”

“Do you guys perform?” Miller asks.

“Not yet, no. And we don’t really talk about performing.”

“You should!” Harper gasps. “We’d all come see you. We’d make T-shirts!”

“The band would need a name for us to have T-shirts,” Jasper points out. “Which is why we need to think of a name. So they can start booking gigs.”

“Booking gigs,” Monty repeats. “You know a lot about booking gigs, Jasper?”

“I’ll be your agent,” Jasper decides.

“Says the chemistry major,” Harper says.

Miller smirks. “Hey, Harp, we’re psych and business. Between me and you, we’ve got a marketing major.”

Harper’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “Perfect. And Jasper can run your social media!”

Jasper turns to Monty. “Do you guys have a Facebook yet?”

“We don’t even have a name,” Monty says in exasperation.

“Grounders has Music Mondays,” Miller says, apropos of nothing. “Where we have bands come in and play. Mostly it’s terrible indie shit, but lots of bands don’t have names.” He pauses. “Well, that or they’re embarrassed to go into performances with names like The Lamentable Decadence of the Balkans.”

“Tell me that’s not an actual band you’ve had,” Monty says. Miller doesn’t answer, which means that it probably is.

“Wait, this is awesome news,” Jasper says. “And not just that you can name a band something like The Lamentable Decadence of the Balkans. You guys can perform here!”

“I can book you,” Miller says agreeably. “If you guys want.”

Monty stares at him. “Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I work on Monday nights, I see all of the shitty bands come in. Just based on that picture of your setup, you guys would be a damn sight better than most of them. And the manager listens to me. If I suggest a band, she'll let you come in. You want the gig, I’ll get the gig.”

“Can I talk to everyone else first?”

“No, I need an answer right now. This second.” Miller rolls his eyes. “Of course you can. It’s on the second Monday of the month, which is next Monday. Just let me know by, like, Friday if you can.”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“And then tell the rest of us so we can come see you,” Harper adds brightly. “Or talk to us! We like that. Most people like it if you talk to them.”

“Jesus, you sound like Raven,” Monty mutters.

Jasper sighs and leans across the table to clap a hand on Monty’s shoulder. “Monty. I love you. But when your own roommate thinks you have communication issues, you should try to communicate more.”

“Thanks, Jasper. Great.” Monty rolls his eyes. “Speaking of communication issues, it’s been two whole days since you updated me on how Maya’s doing, is your phone broken?”

Jasper’s eyes narrow. “You’re baiting me to change the subject.”

“It’s working,” Monty replies, sitting back in his chair and taking another drink of his coffee. “Just give in.”

“Or don't,” Harper mutters, but Jasper is already ready to get started, and she can tell. She makes a face at Monty, but he just shrugs at her. He'd rather hear Maya stories than talk about his own life.

Jasper sighs dramatically. “Okay, fine, I’ll talk about her. But because I want to, not because you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Monty says blandly. Miller snorts into his coffee.

**  
**

 

 

From: Raven (7:01 PM)  
what time do u finish coffee?

To: Raven (7:02 PM)  
Already done. Why, what’s up?

From: Raven (7:04 PM)  
wanna become my favorite person?

To: Raven (7:06 PM)  
You mean I’m not already?

From: Raven (7:09 PM)  
ofc you are. but you’ll be my real favorite if you bring me mcd’s for dinner? :)

To: Raven (7:11 PM)  
What’s your work address?

**  
**

 

 

Raven works until closing time most days. Monty thinks she would work later if the garage were open later. The way she talks about it, he thinks she would move in if she could. He doesn’t blame her - Raven takes to machines the way Monty takes to computers. If he could move into a really good tech store, he would. Unfortunately, all he has is TekFix.

Raven, lucky bastard that she is, adores her garage wholeheartedly. As soon as Monty gets there, he can see why. It’s the only body shop within several miles, and because of that, it’s alive with action.

Raven’s two cars down from where he walks in, arguing viciously with a blond man. By the set of her shoulders, he can tell she’s not really pissed, but he can also tell she’s not going to let this go for just anything. Hopefully dinner will be that thing.

He intentionally makes his footfalls heavier as he gets closer. Raven turns when she hears them, and the irritation melts off her face. She turns back to the blond and says something (it’s witty and cutting, he’s sure) before heading towards Monty.

“Do I at least get food?” the blond yells after her.

“Only people with good ideas get food,” Raven calls back, but she’s smiling. She stops in front of Monty. “I’m heading to the break room. You can come if you want.”

“Yeah, sure.” He hands the McDonald’s bag to her.

“God, that smells good, thanks for bringing it. C’mon.” Raven starts off down a row of cars. Monty trails behind, looking left and right as he goes. “How was coffee?”

“Bitter as my soul, just how I like it. How was fixing cars?”

“It’d be better without dickish co-workers.” She smiles fondly. “Wick’s an asshole, but he gets shit done.”

“Oh, he’s one of those people.” The kind that you like but don’t admit you like? Monty knows them.

Raven scrunches her nose at him as she pushes open a door to a white room with a couple of couches and a fridge. The walls are smudged with oil, and Monty’s not sure the couches are actually couches so much as piles of grease that took on solid forms. He understands why Raven likes it here.

“Did you get anything for yourself?” Raven asks, crashing onto a couch with the ease of someone who crashes onto that couch regularly. “This doesn’t look like enough for two.”

“I ate already,” Monty answers, sitting next to her. “Not to mention, I had coffee.”

“Yeah, you should bring your coffee people home one day, they seem cool.” Raven unwraps her burger, breathes in the burger grease and cholesterol, and takes a huge bite.

“Yeah, they’re great.” He thinks back to Harper, and how she’d seemed so excited to ask about the band. “Actually, about that?”

“Mmf?” Raven leans back and looks at him, still chewing burger. She gestures for him to talk.

“Does Fluorine and the Machine ever play in public?”

Raven visibly freezes before swallowing. “Only once,” she says, so cautious that it alarms him. “Why?”

“Miller - one of the coffee people - works in a coffee shop that has bands in sometimes. He says he can book us, if we want.”

Raven eats a french fry, taking her time to think. “I think it’s a good idea,” she says slowly. “We don’t really perform much, but we should.”

“Why are you in a band that doesn’t perform?”

“Why are you?”

“Because I figured we’d start eventually?”

“Good point.” Raven sighs and pushes the McDonald’s bag off to the side, and Monty realizes that this is serious. “We’ve only done one gig before, and it was - do you remember the Mount’s Battle of the Bands last year?”

Monty cringes on reflex. He didn’t go to the competition, but one of the bands brought a smoke machine that malfunctioned and caught on fire. There are still scorch marks around the edges of the open-air pavilion on campus. “You weren’t the smoke machine band, were you?”

“Fuck, no.” Raven looks offended. “We entered because Clarke’s girlfriend thought it’d be cool to be dating a rock star. Except we sorta sounded like shit, because Clarke doesn’t like to play an electric and the person doing soundboard sucked. But we won third.”

Monty whistles. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, except music was never the plan for any of us, y’know? Finn wanted to keep playing, he was ready to roll with anything. But Clarke and I had it all figured out. We knew exactly where we were going, and the band sort of fucked that up.”

“But you’re still in it.”

“Yeah, we are. Finn convinced us to keep it going, but only as a casual thing. And it’s fun, it makes sure we see each other. The same way coffee does for you guys, right?”

Monty can’t argue with that. If the study group didn’t have his best friends in it, he would’ve dropped it after Tsing’s class, but Miller and Harper are too important to let go. “Didn’t you live together when you started the band?”

Raven takes a long drink from her soda. Monty decides maybe he should ask another question. “So you’d be okay if we started performing?”

“I don’t see why not.” Raven shrugs. “I can be a bassist and a mechanic, right? And I’m pretty good at both. When’s the gig?”

“Ah.” Monty doesn’t duck his head, but he’s a little tempted. “Next Monday?”

“As in, six days from now?” Raven sighs and shakes her head. “Clarke’s gonna be pissed.”

“What about Finn?”

“He's gonna be over the moon that he’s in the majority again.”

“So we’re going to talk about it?”

“Yeah, why not? Worst that happens is Clarke says no.” Raven smiles at him before taking a bite out of her Big Mac.

**  
**

 

 

**FEBRUARY 5**

 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Clarke says flatly.

Finn rests his drumsticks on top of his snare drum and looks at Raven. “Why the change of heart?”

“There’s no point to being in a band that doesn’t perform.” Raven squares her shoulders and looks at Clarke evenly. “It’s not a big deal, it’s three songs.”

“It’s in four days!”

“And Re-do has been ready to perform since last year.”

“Well-” Clarke presses her lips together, looking viciously unhappy. Monty gets the distinct feeling that he’s missing a piece of this story. “We don't have a name.”

“I vote Skywalkers,” Monty mumbles. Clarke glares at him.

“We can’t rip off Star Wars, don’t be ridiculous,” Raven says.

“Guys,” Clarke pleads. “You know that-”

“Monty, does the coffee shop keep any record of who performs?” Finn asks abruptly.

Monty frowns. “I doubt it. Not publicly, anyways.”

“So nobody’s going to know that it was us?”

“Not unless we tell them.”

Clarke unfolds her arms, hands moving to her hips. She doesn’t say anything, but her shoulders seem a little looser, and her jaw is less clenched.

“It’s one night,” Raven cajoles, stepping closer to Clarke. “It’s going to be fun, remember? The last performance was great.”

Clarke sighs, and all the fight visibly leaves her body. She looks back at Monty. “This Monday?”

“Yeah. It’s like two blocks from campus. Not far.”

“Can your friend get us an early time?”

“Definitely.” Monty reaches for his phone and pulls up the messaging app.

“I think we need to pick a name,” Finn points out. “If we’re performing.”

“We don’t have to, Miller said they have a lot of nameless bands.”

Raven lifts an eyebrow. “Did he sound like he liked the nameless bands?”

“No,” Monty admits. “I really do like Skywalkers, though.”

“Maybe a variation,” Raven muses. “Starwalkers. Starsteppers. Starsteppers?”

“Sounds too hipster.” Finn taps his chin. “Moonwalkers.”

“We’re not a Michael Jackson cover band,” Monty answers. “Starwalkers was okay.”

“Star… Starrunners?” Raven glances around. “No?”

“Spacewalkers,” Clarke says. Monty looks over at her. She’s standing straighter, and Monty can tell that this isn’t a suggestion. This is their name. “We should be Spacewalkers.”

“I like it,” Raven murmurs. Finn nods in approval. Monty reaches for his phone.

**  
**

 

 

To: Miller (6:27 PM)  
We’re in. Clarke wants to know if you can get us an early time?

From: Miller (6:33 PM)  
Consider it done. Got a name yet?

To: Miller (6:35 PM)  
Consensus seems to be The Spacewalkers.

From: Miller (6:38 PM)  
Nice. See you Monday, then.

**  
**

 

 

To: Jasper, Harper, Maya (4:15 PM)  
My band’s performing 8:40 Monday night at Grounders. You’re all invited.

From: Jasper (4:16 PM)  
yeeeeeeeeeeeeah!

From: Maya (4:17 PM)  
consider me & j there!

From: Harper (4:57 PM)  
can’t wait!! :)

**  
**

 

 

**FEBRUARY 9**

 

 **therealjasperj**  
Can’t wait to see my boy @noteasybeing_green perform tonight! MWU folks - hit up @grounderscoffee @ 8:40 to get your world rocked. #ihaventseenthemplayyet

millernathan, cestmayavie, and 24 others like this

 **haaaaaarper** i’m so excited!  
 **itsvickiiii** wow monty’s in a band?

**  
**

 

 

“You seem nervous today,” Murphy leans back against the wall. “What’s the matter, got a date tonight? Does he know you can hack his phone with a safety pin?”

“Not a date,” Monty mutters, glancing at the clock. It’s 11:54, which means that Raven will be by any time with his lunch. (He can’t figure out if she’s bringing him lunch because she’s nervous, she thinks he’ll be nervous, or just because she can.) It also means that he’ll officially be a musician within the next nine hours. So maybe he is a little nervous.

“So you admit that you’re nervous? What, you have a test and you’re scared you’re going to get a ninety-five instead of a hundred?”

Monty snorts. “C’mon, dude, at this point I’d start crying and thanking God if I got a ninety-five.”

Murphy pauses thoughtfully. Monty takes the opportunity to lean onto the counter, propping his elbows up and cradling his face in one hand. He already caught himself drumming his fingers along to his part in Bad Blood a couple of times. Keeping his hands busy helps him avoid the temptation, so he’s been tinkering, texting, and twiddling his thumbs all day.

“Fair point,” Murphy allows at last. “Do I get any more guesses?”

“Sure.” Monty shrugs. “You’ve got two strikes, I’ll tell you after this.”

Murphy snaps his fingers and points at him. “You’re going to tell Jasper you’re in love with him.”

Monty laughs, eyes darting to the clock. 11:57. “What the hell, that’s not even close. Three strikes, get out.”

“Damn,” Murphy says with a grin. “Thought that was it for sure. So what is it really?”

Monty blinks slowly at him. “Well,” he says, “you know how I said my roommate’s in a rock band?”

“Yeah, bass, right?” Murphy’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, are you going to tell _her_ you’re in love with her?”

“Even further than the last guess,” Monty mutters. (He’s not opposed to dating girls, per se, but he’s also not particularly interested in it, and Raven’s too good of a friend to think about dating.) “No, actually, she and her friends invited me to join. We’re performing tonight. First show ever.”

To Monty’s utter lack of surprise, after a few seconds of stunned silence, Murphy says, “No, really, what’s your date’s name?”

Monty rolls his eyes and turns to face the front of the store. “How long have I worked here?”

“Two years. And you’ve had two dates. It’s about time you got a third one.”

Monty graciously resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “How many dates have you been on again, Murphy?”

“Not as many as I deserve,” Murphy says solemnly.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could go on a negative number of dates.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Murphy says amiably, which is of course when Raven walks in with Monty’s Subway sandwich.

“Do I need to kick his ass?” she asks Monty as she walks to the counter, although there’s no heat to it.

“Nah, I could take him.” Monty stands up straight. “Thanks for the sandwich.”

“Anytime.” Raven grins, glances over his shoulder, and leans in. “So that’s the serial killer, right? Because if not, he should be.”

Monty narrowly avoids bursting into laughter. “No, it’s him,” he whispers back. “I’d be worried if there were two Murphys here.”

“I’d be worried if you had two serial killer coworkers,” Raven answers before straightening. She gives Murphy a once-over and an unimpressed scowl before looking back at Monty. “I’ve gotta get back to school, I need to talk to my professor before my next class. But what time did you say you’re gonna be home? Clarke and Finn want us to meet up at their place beforehand so we can get dinner and head over together.”

“Five-fifteen, we can leave as soon as I’m back.” Monty leans across the counter to give Raven a quick hug. “Have a good class. Or is it classes?”

“Classes. Make sure you’re home on time, I want to get you dressed before we leave.”

“Get me dressed?” Monty echoes suspiciously. He trusts Raven with his life and his home, but he’s not sure he trusts her with his wardrobe.

Raven smiles wickedly and drops the Subway bag on the counter. “See you in a few hours, Monty,” she says brightly, and then turns and walks back outside.

Monty opens the Subway bag. “I’m gonna take my break in the back,” he says, pulling the sandwich out, and turns around. Murphy… well, Murphy looks like someone smacked him in the head with a two-by-four. He’s completely dazed, and Monty frowns. “Um. Murphy?”

“Who was that?”

“My roommate. Raven? Bass player? We were just talking about her?”

“That’s your roommate?”

“Yeeeeees?” Monty frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Monty,” Murphy says seriously, “I’m in love with your hot bassist roommate.”

Monty snorts. “Dude, she’d eat you alive.”

Murphy leans in, looking intense. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Monty thinks he was happier before he knew that about Murphy. “We’re performing tonight at Grounders. You can come check us out. I’m taking my lunch break now.”

“Yeah,” Murphy says softly. Monty grabs his sandwich and heads to the back room, wondering whether or not Raven would think it’s funny that his coworker is head over heels for her.

**  
**

 

 

To: Raven (5:03 PM)  
Heading out, be home soon.

From: Raven (5:06 PM)  
get ready to get all prettied up!!

To: Raven (5:07 PM)  
I’m scared now.

**  
**

 

 

“First thing’s first,” Raven says, and throws something at Monty. It’s a plain black T-shirt, but it’s too big to be hers and too small to be his. “Change.”

“What,” Monty says flatly.

“Put the shirt on,” Raven clarifies, turning back to dig through the closet. “I know it’s small, but I cut off part of the bottom, so you should still be able to move and play.”

“You cut-” Monty turns the shirt around in his hands. Sure enough, the hem is ragged, and now that he looks, it’s definitely too short to fit. “What exactly is the aesthetic here? Showing off how skinny I am?”

“Pseudo-punk.” She holds up a red leather jacket. When she sees the look on Monty’s face, she adds, “This is for me, not you.”

“Oh, thank God,” he mutters.

“But anyways. Black and red, a little flowy, a little edgy. T-shirts and ties, which is what you’re going to be wearing.” Raven reaches into the back of the closet, pulls something out, and throws it backwards without looking. It’s a blood red tie, which lands at Monty’s feet. “Seriously. Change. I’ll find some jeans for you.”

There’s no point to arguing, so Monty slips out into the common area to change. The T-shirt pulls tight across his chest, and he tries to yank the hem down unsuccessfully. It barely comes down to the waist of his jeans, and that’s with his arms down at his side.

“Why did you cut the bottom of this shirt off again?” he asks, returning to Raven’s bedroom. “Do people really want to see my stomach?”

Raven turns around, pair of grey jeans in hand, eyes narrowing as she assesses him. “Not bad,” she decides. “Here, try these on. Your shoes are fine, we don’t need to change those. You know any cool ways to tie a tie?”

“I can do a Windsor.”

“Cool, Monty. I said cool.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll get Finn to do it. Go put the jeans on, give me a minute to change, and then I’ll see what I can do about your hair.”

“My hair?” Monty pauses, thinking about what rock star hair normally looks like. Short. Snippy. “No scissors.”

Raven gives him a weird look. “Well, I was going to use hair gel. Unless you want a mohawk, but that’d be a razor, not scissors.”

“No, gel is fine,” Monty says quickly, and leaves for the common area again. The jeans have a chunky belt already threaded through the loops, with a huge silver buckle. Monty shucks his own jeans off, takes a moment to wonder where Raven got the new pair, and pulls them on. Thankfully, with the belt, they come up higher than the hem of the shirt, and he fastens the buckle easily.

“How do they fit?” Raven calls from the other room.

“Where did you get these?” Monty runs a finger along the buckle. It looks nice. Really, really nice.

“Oh, I banged a guy once and he pissed me off, so I hid all his clothes. He had to leave the building naked.” She pauses. “I washed them, don’t worry. You’re safe from the douchebag germs.”

“Good to know.” The jeans are bulkier than anything he normally wears, with a little flare around the ankles, but they’re his size, and if nothing else he gets a new pair of pants out of the deal. “Do you steal clothes often?”

“Only to the assholes.” Raven appears in the doorway, hair loose around her shoulders for possibly the first time since Monty’s met her. She’s decked out in black and white, with the red jacket completing the look.

“So do we have a color scheme?” Monty wonders. “Or are Finn and Clarke going to be green and gold?”

“I’ll kick their asses if they show up in green and gold,” Raven promises. “C’mere, let’s do our hair and makeup and talk about boys.” She goes to the bathroom, and Monty trails behind her, hoping desperately that she was joking. “So how opposed are you to eyeliner?”

“Very,” Monty answers immediately.

“Good, me too,” Raven says, reaching into a drawer and rummaging around. She pulls out a huge fluffy brush and a compact of something powdery, which she immediately begins sweeping across her cheeks. “You never seemed like an eyeliner person to me.”

“Jasper’s sister did mine once,” Monty admits.

“Jasper has a sister?”

“Yeah, Poppy. She’s seven years younger than him, and she thought I would be the perfect makeup model.”

Raven puts the compact down and pulls out another, this one with a smaller brush. “Let me guess, Jasper flipped out and then took pictures.”

“Exactly.” Monty grins fondly. “She was eleven, she didn’t realize that eyeliner wasn’t supposed to look like a raccoon.”

Raven snorts and brushes dark brown on her eyelids. “Some twenty-year-old women don’t realize that.”

“Jasper still has pictures of it somewhere, I think.”

“You mean there are pictures of eighteen-year-old Monty Green with raccoon eyes? Damn, when we’re famous, the fans’ll go nuts for that.”

Monty laughs quietly. “Yeah, that’ll get them talking, all right. She did my lipstick, too. Barbie pink.”

Raven throws a grin over her shoulder and pulls out a tube of mascara. “Okay, now I want to see these pictures.”

“Talk to Jasper. He’ll probably show you.” Monty pauses, thinking about it. “Actually, on second thought, don’t. He’ll probably post them on Facebook so you can see.”

Raven picks up a tube of lip gloss. “He still uses Facebook?”

“Jasper uses all forms of social media. He has a MySpace.” He offered to make Spacewalkers a MySpace page, but Monty decides not to mention that. It’d be bad if Raven laughed so hard she hurt herself and couldn’t perform. “He Snapchats me more than everyone else I know, combined.”

Raven smacks her lips and sets the lip gloss down. “You clearly haven’t added Wick. He won’t leave me alone. Hair up or down?”

“My hair’s not long enough to put up.”

“I meant mine.” Raven rolls her eyes. “But I should probably do your hair first, we need to leave soon. C’mere.”

Monty reluctantly steps forward. “What exactly is the plan here?”

“Relax, oh my god, I’m not going to shave your head.” Raven opens another drawer and pulls out a bottle of gel. “Turn around. We’re gonna make all the boys want to take you home.”

“What, make them want what they can’t have?” Monty grins. “Sound like a pl- aaghhhh.”

“Don’t be a baby, it’s just gel.” Raven keeps running her hands through the back of Monty’s hair, and he has to repress a shudder. He’s never liked having things in his hair. “So you’re not going home with anyone tonight?”

“Uh, you.” Monty frowns. “What, are you planning on it?”

“Nah, not unless I meet someone I really like. Maybe one of your friends?”

“No way. Miller’s gay, Harper’s ace, and Jasper and Maya already told me I’m their first pick for a threesome.”

“They did _not._ ” Another squirt of gel, more combing through hair.

“It was Maya’s idea. I think I’m their only potential third partner.”

“They probably don’t know many people who would be up for it.” Raven pauses, and so do her hands. “Wait, would you be up for it?”

“Probably not. It’d be too weird.”

Raven starts rubbing gel into his hair again. “That’s what Clarke said when Finn and I asked her, but that’s where the band started.”

Well, that certainly explains the way they act around each other. “But the three of us wouldn’t be able to start a band,” Monty argues. “The most we’d be able to do is start a superhero team.”

“That sounds like the best idea ever, are you kidding? Sleep with them right now!” Raven backs away. “Your hair’s done, by the way.”

Monty turns to the mirror. The front of his hair looks the same as it always does, but the back is spiked back away from his head. “Huh. Nice. Also, not sleeping with them.”

Raven turns on the faucet and rinses the gel off her hands. “But think about it. You could be the first gay rock star superhero engineer. That’s not worth trying for?”

“I’d be a lousy superhero. Do you need help with your hair?”

“No, I’ll get Clarke. Get your shoes so we can go.” Raven waves him away, digging through a drawer, and Monty leaves to find his shoes.

**  
**

 

 

Dinner at Finn and Clarke’s is “spaghetti a la Collins,” which translates into “spaghetti with a shit-ton of melted butter and parmesan cheese.” Monty has never had spaghetti with anything other than tomato sauce, so he’s slightly wary.

Finn, who’s wearing a tux shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the bottom half-tucked into his red jeans, watches him with bated breath. “What do you think?”

Monty swallows his first bite. “Pretty damn good.”

“He should be a chef, right?” Clarke says, over from the couch where she’s pulling Raven’s hair up.

Finn rolls his eyes and leans towards Monty. “She’s been trying to get me to be a chef for the last three years,” he says conspiratorially. “Personally, I think it’s because her mom loves microwave dinners, and I make her the first home-cooked food she’s had in years, not because I’m actually any good.”

“Oh, shut up,” Raven groans. “You can cook! Suck it up and take the compliment.”

Monty takes another bite of the spaghetti, more thoughtfully this time. “It needs a little heat. Pepper, or something.”

“See, Monty can be your first critic!” Clarke tosses a smile at them. “And Raven and I will be your customers. Open a restaurant, Finn.”

“Fuck, no, Raven’s my co-owner,” Finn says immediately.

Raven gives him a thumbs-up. “You make spaghetti and scrambled eggs, I make sandwiches. Dream team.”

“Finished!” Clarke jumps to her feet. “Gimme some spaghetti, I’m starving.”

“Slow your roll, princess,” Finn laughs, like there aren’t already two plates of spaghetti on the counter for her and Raven. “I’ve gotta do Monty’s tie, anyways. Where is it?”

Raven reaches into her bag and throws the tie to Finn. He whistles. “This is nice. You stealing clothes from assholes again?”

“Yup.” She pauses. “Okay, that one’s old, but still yes.”

“Mmmhm,” Finn says, looping the tie around Monty’s neck. “Here, adjust this so it’s as long as you want it.”

Monty does so, and Finn reaches forward and starts doing something complicated looking with the thin end of the tie. He blinks down in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Trinity knot.”

“Nice one,” Clarke says, picking up a plate of spaghetti.

“Yeah, It’s kinda classy, kinda edgy. Like us.” Finn smiles at Clarke. Clarke’s outfit is the perfect combination of classy and edgy, as far as Monty’s concerned (peasant blouse and leather leggings? It’s a good combination on her.) and he’s suitably impressed. It figures that Clarke Griffin is good at fashion, too.

“Aaand done.” Finn leans back, and Monty examines the knot. “Cool, right?”

“How,” Monty says. It is incredibly cool and also far beyond his really ugly Windsor abilities.

“Finn is really good at three things,” Raven explains. “Compromising, keeping secrets, and tying ties.”

“What about cooking? I’m a great cook.”

“Of course, dear,” Raven says, earning a scowl. She flashes Monty an amused glance, and he has to fight back a smile.

 

 

 

Clarke, being Clarke, has a car. Finn’s drum set takes up most of the back seat, so Monty volunteers to ride with it and make sure nothing falls. He ends up squished between the bass drum and the door while Finn and Raven share the front seat. The keyboard, guitar, and bass all fit into the trunk, although the amp is pushing it.

“If I drive really slowly,” Clarke says, looking down at the trunk, “nothing’s going to break.”

True to her word, she drives painfully slowly. It takes two trips and fifteen minutes to load the car, and another five minutes to get to Grounders. It’s exactly eight o’clock when they traipse into Grounders. A barista - not Miller, but still one that Monty vaguely recognizes - helps them carry the pieces of the drum set inside and to the back, where there’s a semicircle of stage area cleared.

“This place is weird,” Raven announces as soon as all their things are safely off to the side. “Is the coffee good?”

“The coffee’s fantastic,” Monty assures her.

“Good.” She looks at the stage area, where the barista is busily positioning a microphone and an amp. “I get the feeling we’re the hardest-rocking band this place has ever seen.”

“It’s going to be a nice change,” someone says off to the side. Monty turns and sees Miller, holding a cup of coffee. “Caramel double-shot?”

“My hero,” Monty answers, taking the coffee. “Can I drink this, or do we need to wait for Harper to tell you how much I like it?”

“I can tell how much you like my coffee without her.” Miller half-smiles and gives Monty a once-over. “You look good.”

Monty points at Raven. “All her.”

“Hey!” Finn objects.

“Except the knot in the tie. That was Finn.”

“You must be Miller,” Raven says. “I’m Raven.”

Miller shakes her hand. “Good to see you actually exist.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” she laughs. “No, don’t tell me, Monty forgot to tell you about me.”

“More like he forgot to say he moved at all.”

“It was a legitimate mistake,” Monty objects. Raven and Miller exchange a smirky look, and Monty wants to bury his head in his hands.

Finn comes to the rescue, sliding in next to Raven. “Hey man, thanks for getting us in here. I’m Finn.”

“Anything for a friend, right? You look like you’ll be a nice change of pace.”

“I can tell,” Clarke mutters, looking at the stage.

Monty follows her gaze and sees a tall, pale brunette with tortoiseshell glasses and a banjo. “Oh my god, you get hipsters."

“Pretty much.” Miller sighs. “It’s three hours of this once a month. It could be worse.”

“I hope we make your night better,” Clarke answers. Miller turns to her, and she holds out her hand for shaking. “Clarke.”

“Miller, not that you haven’t guessed. So when are you guys on?”

“In forty minutes.”

“God, I can’t wait that long,” Miller mutters, just as the brunette taps the mic. “I’ve gotta get back to the counter. If you guys want drinks, come on over, they’ll be on me.”

“Sweet,” Raven says and follows him back to the counter, leaving Clarke smirking at Monty.

“What?” Monty says resignedly.

Finn claps him on the shoulder. “Dude. You didn’t mention he was hot.”

“Um. Yeah. Surprise?”

“Like, super hot,” Clarke adds, seemingly just to watch him squirm. (He knows Miller is hot, okay, he couldn’t possibly not notice. He just blocks that out of his head because after Jasper, he’s not willing to go back to crushing on his friends.) “And he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Bullshit, he made eye contact with all three of you,” Monty says matter-of-factly.

Finn opens his mouth to argue, but brunette finishes tuning her banjo and chirps out “Hi, everyone!” Monty silently thanks her for saving his ass, even if he’s not in the mood to hear Within Temptation in the style of Mumford and Sons. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what she plays.

 

 

 

 **noteasybeing_green**  
pre-show selfie. #getreadytorock

haaaaaarper, cgriffin, and 7 others like this

 

 

 

Brunette plays for fifteen minutes, which Monty spends alternately wincing and nodding in surprised appreciation. Raven, Finn, and Clarke all vanish and come back with coffee. After brunette, a jazz combo comes on, complete with a singer crooning Ke$ha lyrics.

“This is more variety than I was expecting,” Finn remarks as they finish their last song and wrap up.

“We’re next,” Raven says. The jazz combo waves at the crowd till their applause ends and then makes their way off the stage area. Monty feels butterflies erupt in his chest. No more waiting.

The barista gives them the high sign, and Clarke jumps to her feet. “Good luck ritual?”

“What?” Monty says, but before he can ask a better question, Raven grabs his shoulders and spins him around so his back is to Finn and Clarke.

“So there’s this ritual we have from our one gig that they insisted on bringing back,” she says apologetically. “We do kisses for luck.”

“Kisses for luck,” Monty repeats. He’s heard stranger things (Jasper used to spit in a bush before every marching band competition, and he never told Monty why) but he’s still not sure he’s ready to kiss Finn or Clarke.

“So…” Raven leans in and presses her lips to Monty’s, and he’s too surprised to do anything other than kiss back. She tastes like coffee and peppermint chapstick, and she is also a very, very good kisser. She pulls away and smiles. “Good luck.”

“You, too,” Monty answers automatically. He hears a snicker from behind him and turns to see Clarke and Finn pulling away from each other. “And you guys, if you need it.”

“Nah, Clarke wishes luck really well. With tongue.” Finn smirks at him.

Clarke smacks his arm. “Get moving, slowpoke.” She picks up her guitar and slings it around her neck with practiced ease. “Time to go.”

Monty gets the keyboard set up and concert-ready within a minute. He helps Finn and the barista set up, and by the time that’s done, Raven and Clarke are already set up. He looks out at the crowd. There are twenty people there tops, but in the back corner, he can see the study group table. Jasper’s in the corner, as per usual, feet kicked up and Maya pulled close to his side. Across the table, Harper and Miller are whispering to one another. Monty smiles at them. That group - they’re the real reason he’s here.

“What’s up, Grounders!” the barista says, sliding on stage next to Clarke. “We hope you’re having fun at Music Monday!” There’s a smattering of applause. “Now we’ve got lots of the same bands every week, but we like to give you all a little variety. So here to mix things up, we’ve got a brand-new band - The Sky People!”

Monty looks over at Finn. “Sky People?” he whispers.

Finn just shrugs. “We’ll work with it,” he whispers back. “Ready?”

“Course. You?”

“Of course.” Finn looks to Clarke, and Monty does the same. Raven’s gripping the neck of her bass. This is their only chance to make a first impression, and it’s all Clarke.

“I wanna start from the top,” Clarke sings, and she starts playing slow arpeggios as she sings.

Monty takes a deep breath. Time to go. Finn lifts his drumsticks, and Raven shifts her bass, and Clarke sings, “I want a complete re-do,” and all of them hit the chord better than they’ve ever practiced it. It doesn’t quite throw Monty off, but it comes close. Clarke half-laughs into the mic before she keeps on singing. Monty glances out into the crowd and sees everyone is sitting up a little straighter now, and he smiles to himself. Yep, they’re doing their job.

Re-do is a blur of Raven’s bass notes and his occasional accent chords. It’s a keep-moving-forward kind of song, and that’s what he does. He barrels through it, and it’s over too fast. They hit their last chord and there’s applause from throughout the coffee shop, more than the banjo girl or the jazz combo had gotten.

“Hi, everyone,” Clarke says. Monty can hear the smile in her voice. “We’re The Sky People-”

“Apparently,” Raven mutters under her breath. Finn snorts and shifts on his stool.

“-and we’re going to play some Bastille for you.” Clarke looks at Raven. “Ready?”

“Born ready,” Raven answers. She doesn’t hesitate before launching into the opening notes of Bad Blood. Finn jumps in with the drum part perfectly. Monty’s chords are all quarter notes, and with the rhythm already set, he has a pretty easy time in this song. By the time Clarke has started singing words beyond “oh-oh-oh,” Monty can tell this is locked in. (He’s right, and even though he botches an entrance, Clarke forgets a line, so he’s not alone.)

The song finishes in one piece, and there’s some more applause. Monty takes a minute to scan the crowd. It actually looks like more people than it did when they started, with some people in line, and one familiar pale face in the back of the room. Monty smiles. He’s not sure whether Murphy came to see him or Raven, but either way he’s glad to see him there.

“So!” Clarke says brightly. “Thank you all for coming out, we hope you enjoyed the show. Stick around to hear some more cool music and make sure you tip your baristas. We’re going to play you out with a song you’ve probably heard before.” She turns to Monty and smiles at him, which he takes as his cue.

The beginning to Radioactive is flawless. Clarke hums into the mic, and he can hear Raven humming along too. He laughs to himself, and Raven grins at him. He’d never really performed outside of marching band and drumline shows, where he was just another face in a group of performers. Now, though - as they all hit their entrances and Clarke starts singing, as he keeps playing and performing - he’s a key member. If he wants to be dramatic, and he does, he’s the reason they’re here at all. He got them performance-ready, after all. And it's exhilarating, being here, doing this. It's fantastic.

Clarke sings out her last “Radioactive, radioactive,” and the thirty-ish people all burst into applause. Monty can see a gaggle of studentsclapping for them as they walk by outside. It takes a solid thirty seconds for the applause to die down, and Clarke leans into the mic. “Thank you so much, everyone, have a good night!” She steps back, gripping her guitar. Her hands are shaking, and Monty wonders if she’s having the same adrenaline rush that he is.

Raven leaves the stage, going off to where they’d stood before. The barista comes up to help Finn with his drums. Monty lifts up the keyboard, unsurprised that it feels much lighter than it normally does. He folds the stand, tucks it under his arm, and follows Clarke out to her car.

“That was fucking amazing,” Clarke says as soon as they’re outside. She sets her guitar against the side of her car as Monty lays his keyboard in the trunk. “Oh my god, we sounded great.”

“Damn straight,” Raven agrees as she comes outside, holding her bass and two of Finn’s cymbals. “Your voice was good tonight.”

“So was yours. Nice back-ups.” Clarke smiles, and Raven grins back, laying her bass on top of Monty’s keyboard.

“I don’t think we’ve ever sounded so locked-in,” Monty says. He holds the door open as Finn comes out holding a couple of different drum parts, followed by the barista struggling with the rest. “Our tempo was good.”

“Thanks,” Finn grunts, pushing the biggest drum into the back seat. “That was kickass, right? We can all agree that was kickass.”

“Technically, I’m not supposed to show favoritism,” the barista says. “But you guys are the best group we’ve had since this shit started.”

“Thanks, dude,” Monty says. The barista slaps him a high-five before heading back inside. “We’re so good people are going against their training to tell us we’re good.”

“Fucking right,” Raven says happily. “C’mon, group hug before we finish loading up.” She holds out her arms, and Finn obligingly steps in, letting one arm curl around his shoulders. Monty joins them, standing next to Finn, and Clarke completes the circle, pulling them all closer to her.

“Go Spacewalkers,” Finn says.

“Sky People,” Clarke corrects him.

Finn looks at her disbelievingly. “But Spacewalkers sounds so cool!”

“We’ll have this fight tomorrow, first I want to meet Monty’s friends.” Raven pulls back and goes to the rest of the drum set. She picks up a drum and turns to Finn. “Would this fit in the trunk?”

“Probably,” Finn says, taking it from her. “Let’s try.”

The drum does, in fact, fit in the trunk, and it takes all of two minutes to finish loading the drum set in. Monty is the first back inside. He can’t find Murphy, but that’s fine. Monty will see him again on Saturday, and he can thank him for coming then. He’d rather focus on the people that are here.

Maya spots him first. She breaks away from Jasper’s side and wraps him in a hug. “You were awesome!” she laughs into his ear.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he says, returning her embrace. Maya’s not the most tactile person, outside of being with Jasper, but he’s always happy to give her a hug when she wants one.

Harper’s next, and as soon as Maya steps back, she flings her arms around his neck. “You’re a staaaar,” she sings out, giggling. “You guys are gonna be famous!”

“Bullshit, we’re already famous,” Monty counters. Harper’s arms tighten. “Were we really that good?”

“You were definitely that good,” Harper says firmly. “You were absolutely fantastic and I’m never listening to any other music again.”

“You’re not going to have a lot of music to listen to,” Monty warns her, but he’s still grinning when he pulls away. Harper’s beaming at him, and she catches one of his hands and squeezes. “Glad you had fun.”

“So much fun,” Harper agrees. She moves backwards and Jasper takes her place immediately, grabbing Monty and pulling him in. Monty’s arms find their way around Jasper’s waist easily, familiarly.

“It finally happened,” Jasper mutters into Monty’s neck. “I never thought it would, but it did.”

“What?” Monty says, propping his chin up on Jasper’s shoulder.

“You’re cooler than me.”

Monty stomps on Jasper’s foot, hard. Jasper wheels backwards chanting “ow, ow, fuck, ow.”

“Hey, I could’ve gotten Clarke.” Raven appears over Monty’s shoulder. “She’s wearing heels.”

“Holy shit, Raven,” Jasper whines. “That’s just mean.”

“That was the goal, yeah.” Raven still leans in for a hug, and Jasper happily obliges. “Thanks for coming.”

“You sounded great, I’m glad I saw it.” Jasper’s eyes flick over to Monty to assure that he knows Jasper’s talking to him, too. “So have you met Harper and Maya?”

“Nope, not yet.” Raven pulls away and turns to Maya. “So you’re the girlfriend he wouldn’t shut up about every time I was with him?”

Maya smiles. “And you’re Monty’s new roommate who welds all the time?”

“Exactly. But you can call me Raven.”

Maya shakes Raven’s hand, smiling brightly. “And you can call me Maya.”

Raven turns to Harper. “And you’re one of those people that made it through Tsing’s famous torture class, right?”

“Wow, famous? It’s almost like I did a good job.” Harper smiles brightly and shakes Raven’s hand. “I’m Harper. Nice to see you exist.”

“Okay, did everyone just think I was living by myself and lying about it?” Monty demands of nobody in particular.

“I helped you move in,” Jasper points out.

“I thought you were lying until I saw your Instagram,” Harper adds.

“I would’ve thought you were lying, but I know Jasper wouldn’t let you leave if you didn’t have somewhere to go,” Maya finishes.

“You guys fucking suck,” Monty mutters. Just because he’s forgotten to shower or sleep or eat every now and again doesn’t mean he’d just move out at the drop of a hat, okay, he has _standards_. He just forgets the standards sometimes, that’s all.

“At least you have me,” Raven says brightly. “Me, my welding, and my hair gel.”

Monty flinches on instinct. Harper bursts out laughing, and he scowls at her. She laughs even louder.

“So how long have you played bass?” Maya asks Raven. “I used to play string bass back in high school - you know, the huge-” she gestures with her hands, silhouetting something about as tall as her. “But that’s nowhere near as cool as electric bass.”

Raven hisses through her teeth. “Yeah, I gotta agree with you there, I think my bass beats your bass. But I started in high school too.”

“Really?” Monty blurts out. He’d never asked her before, he’d just assumed it was a college thing.

Raven glances at him sideways. “No, I’m just telling people that so they think I know what I’m doing. Yes, really.”

“You were great, your set sounded really solid,” Maya says, bringing their focus back over to her. Her eyes are bright and proud. “Are you guys going to compete in the College Comp?”

Monty glances at Raven, who looks as confused as he feels. “The what?”

“The College Competition? ARK Records?” Maya’s eyes dart between the two of them before landing on Raven. “Are you local?”

Raven shakes her head. “West Virginia.”

“Oh.” Maya shrugs. “There’s this record label in the suburbs of DC called ARK Records. They’re kind of a local legend because they have this competition every year for college students.” She pauses. “Well, technically it’s two competitions, one for solo acts and one for bands. The winner gets to record a demo, and ARK is well-connected. People go from these competitions to Hollywood.”

Monty raises his eyebrows. “No kidding?”

“No kidding,” Maya confirms. “They keep it pretty underground, they’re like the music industry’s best-kept secret. Or, at least, that’s what locals like to think.”

“When is it?” Raven asks.

“May, normally. There’s a registration fee, though. They don’t want people who aren’t serious about it.”

Monty looks over at Raven. “Are we serious about it?”

“Maybe,” Raven says consideringly. “We’d need to bring it up with Clarke and Finn, but we-”

“Bring what up with Clarke and Finn?” Finn asks, throwing arms around Monty and Raven’s shoulders.

“They were saying you need a haircut,” Raven says without missing a beat. “Also, we should enter a battle of the bands.”

“What, the one at the Mount?” Finn turns to gawk at the group at large. “Seriously? Did you guys not hear about the smoke machine thing?”

“Not that one,” Harper says at the same time that Jasper says “Oh my god, that’s legendary.”

“Legendary,” Monty repeats. “We’re calling it legendary?”

“We were there, it was definitely legendary,” Finn says before turning to Harper. “There’s another battle of the bands?”

“No, we’re not doing that again,” Clarke says, coming over to join them. “The last one was awful, remember?”

“But they’re saying there’s another one,” Finn says, turning to face Clarke and squishing Monty against his side in the process. Monty pokes him in the ribs, and Finn only squeezes him tighter. When Monty looks around for help, he makes eye contact with Miller, still behind the counter, and mouths _help me_. Miller mouths back _sorry_ and turns to a customer. Monty silently curses Miller’s amazing work ethic. Jasper would’ve left the counter to help, lazy, loyal fucker that he is.

“Really?” Clarke looks at the group, eyes flitting from face to face. “I didn’t know that.”

“Apparently it’s a local thing,” Monty says before stomping on Finn’s foot. Finn yelps and pulls his arm back from Monty’s shoulder.

“Is that your go-to attack?” Raven asks Monty, still pressed against Finn’s side.

“Only if it’ll work.” He looks around Finn and Raven at Clarke. “It’s sponsored by some record company-”

“ARK Records,” Maya interjects. “They’re in DC and they give college bands a chance to record demos. After a competition, I mean.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “We want to record a demo?”

“Maybe,” Finn muses. “We’d be good rock stars. It’d get rid of student loans.”

Raven laughs. “In that case, let’s do it.”

“Guys,” Clarke sighs in exasperation, but she looks sort of fond. “We can talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I want to meet Monty’s friends and then go out for drinks.”

Monty points at his group. “Maya, Jasper, Harper.” He points at Finn. “The one with no concept of personal space-”

“But you can call me Finn.”

“-and Clarke. Everyone knows everyone now.”

“Great, that means we can all head to The Brewery!” Finn starts towards the door, Raven under his arm, but pauses when he realizes nobody’s following. “Uh. Guys?”

“How above-ground is this bar?” Monty asks slowly.

“They’re going to card you,” Harper says apologetically.

“Damn it.” Monty sighs. He’s not one for the bar scene, mostly because there weren’t a lot of non-seedy bars to go to before moving to Virginia, and he’s still not legal, so there’s no option other than seedy.

Raven’s face falls. “Shit, I forgot, you’re not twenty-one yet, are you?”

“What, seriously?” Finn’s smile starts to fade.

Monty waves a hand. “It’s fine, I have a test tomorrow, I can go home and study.” He glances around and realizes that everyone is staring at him in utter dismay. “You know, most people in my class won’t have played a mini-concert the night before. I can’t really use that as an excuse.”

“Monty.” Clarke takes a step closer to him and claps both hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to drink.”

“Not that I have a choice,” he mutters.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You can just come and help me hustle people in pool or something, okay?”

“I don’t know how to play pool,” Monty lies.

“You are so full of shit, you’ve hustled me before,” Jasper complains.

“Only once!”

“You can’t hustle someone twice!”

“Boys,” Maya sighs, and they both automatically stop and look at her.

“Please teach me how to do that,” Raven says fervently.

Jasper turns back to Monty, pouting slightly. “I want to watch you hustle someone who isn’t me.”

“I think bars don’t really like hustlers,” Monty says, but he can feel himself caving. “They’re called The Brewery, do they have drinks other than beer?”

“I hear they have a great Shirley Temple,” Harper says, totally poker-faced.

“Fuck you,” Monty sighs. “All right, let’s go.”

“Awesome!” Finn grabs one of Monty’s arms, and Jasper grabs the other, and they haul him out of Grounders. Monty chances one last glance back at Miller, who waves goodbye like one of his friends isn’t being physically coerced out of his cafe. What a bastard. Monty wishes he could come with them.

 

 

 

 **therealjasperj**  
Check out @noteasybeing_green and #theskypeople playing #radioactive! #betterthanimaginedragons

millernathan, itsvickiii, and 41 others like this

 **notfinncollins** glad you liked the show dude!  
 **itsvickiii** awesome!! miss ya monty! and @caaarter_doooyle i told you he’s in a band now!  
 **caaarter_doooyle** damn they’re pretty good! who did monty’s hair haha  
 **noteasybeing_green** @caaarter_doooyle that’d be @rockin_raven  
 **caaarter_doooyle** @rockin_raven nice job, bruh

 

 

 

“Here, the bartender isn’t looking.” Jasper hands his beer over, and Monty drinks like he’s dying of thirst. “Leave some for me!”

Monty sets the glass down. “You can get more if you want some. I’ve been reduced to taking drinks from you when she’s not looking. Plus I’ll pay you back.”

Jasper leans back in the booth. Clarke is playing pool with Raven, although they don’t seem to be hustling anyone, and Maya, Harper, and Finn are all talking in a corner. “So are you guys going to perform again?”

“I dunno.” Monty takes a drink from his Shirley Temple (it’s surprisingly good and he’s really, really bitter about it) and thinks about it. “Clarke is the only one that didn’t want to perform, but she liked Grounders. I bet we’ll do another Music Monday.”

“Good, let me know.” Jasper takes a drink from his beer. “Maybe next time I’ll put something on Twitter. Do you guys have a Twitter yet?”

“If we did, the name would be wrong.” At Jasper’s curious look, Monty shrugs. “We gave them the name Spacewalkers, and the barista just butchered it.”

Jasper whistles. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big fuck-up. Spacewalkers sounds badass, though. Are you going to go back to that?”

“We haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet.”

“When you pick a name, you should get a Twitter. And Instagram.”

“Is there a point if we only play monthly gigs at a coffee shop?”

“Are you going to do the Battle of the Bands Maya mentioned?” Jasper leans in. “C’mon, I can tell you want to.”

“Like I said, it’s not me, it’s Clarke.”

“Then convince her!”

Monty leans back in his seat. “You're really invested in me doing this.”

“That’s because you want to. You haven’t been into anything like this since you first got that tech job, and you’re having fun. And being around people!”

Monty groans. “Why is everyone so convinced I’m antisocial?”

“Name three people you hang out with regularly who aren’t in this bar.”

“Miller, Murphy, and-” he pauses. Shit. “Okay, I see your point.”

“So take advantage of this,” Jasper presses. “It’s something you like doing, it’s something you’re good at, and it’s good for you. It’s a triple-win!”

Monty opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Maya slides into the booth next to Jasper. “So, hypothetically,” she begins.

“Hypothetically,” Harper repeats, squishing into the booth next to Monty.

“All completely hypothetical,” Finn adds, sitting next to Harper.

“I’m scared for my life,” Jasper mutters. Monty silently agrees.

“Guys, quit, this is serious,” Finn complains.

Maya leans forward, expression more serious than Monty has ever seen. “In a zombie apocalypse, would you want a lightsaber?”

Monty shakes his head vehemently. “Fuck, no.”

“But it’s a lightsaber!” Jasper says, appalled. “You’d slice the zombies up.”

“Lightsabers aren’t practically viable.”

“I’d go for a Star Trek phaser,” Harper volunteers.

Maya scoffs. “To stun the zombies?”

“Phasers can kill, too,” Finn points out.

Monty decides he’s not drunk enough to take this seriously and reaches for Jasper’s beer again.

 

**  
**

 

To: Miller (10:32 PM)  
What time do you guys close?

From: Miller (10:35 PM)  
11\. why?

To: Miller (10:38 PM)  
I have a tipsy roommate who needs some coffee. Mind if we stop in?

From: Miller (10:40 PM)  
Course not, come on by.

 

 

 

“I’m not that drunk,” Raven says, even though she’s clinging to Monty’s arm to keep her balance. Monty looks down at her hands and back at her; she scowls. “Really!”

“I know,” Monty says. He decides not to remind her that this is the third time she’s insisted she’s not drunk without being asked. “We’re just going to Grounders to visit Miller and get coffee so you’re even less drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy,” Raven says haughtily. “And when I’m tipsy, bodily coordination is always first to go.”

“I know, I live with you, remember?” They stop in front of Grounders. Monty checks his phone - ten minutes before closing. He hates to be that guy, but he really does need to make sure Raven can get home.

“Coffee doesn’t make you less drunk,” Raven announces as he pushes the door open. “I’ve tried. You’re still drunk, you’re just drunk and caffeinated.”

Miller pokes his head out from the kitchen. “She’s pretty drunk after just an hour and a half.”

“I think she’s just a lightweight.”

“And I was drinking whiskey.”

“What, seriously?” Monty shakes his head. “And the most I got was some of Jasper’s beer.”

“You poor thing,” Miller intones, reaching behind the counter. “Here, try this.” He holds out a bottle of water.

Monty cracks it open and hands it to Raven, who starts drinking immediately, letting go of his arm in the process. He goes to the side of the counter, closer to Miller. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And I didn’t get to say it earlier, but you guys were great.” Miller props his elbows on the counter. “Definitely better than the fourth straight month of hearing banjo girl wail out Stand My Ground.”

“Oh, God.” Monty winces in sympathy. “That’s a pretty low bar, but I’m glad we cleared it.”

“You were the best group we had all night, a couple of customers even said so.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Miller nods and even cracks a smile, and Monty’s butterflies burst back to life. “Thanks for making my night that much better. And I like the hair.”

Monty instinctively lifts a hand to the back of his head. That’s right. Gel. “That was Raven. But the gig was you. Thanks for getting us in here.”

Miller’s smile widens. “Like I said earlier. Anything for you.”

Monty is pretty sure that’s not what he said earlier, but he can feel the blush creeping up his neck anyways. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way.”

Miller glances up at him, and Monty wonders why he can feel his heartbeat picking up speed. (He knows, of course he does, but this is Miller, and he’s too important to risk losing over a crush.) “I should probably close up shop,” Miller says, like it’s an apology.

“Oh, shoot, right.” Monty stands up a little straighter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from going home. Tell Drew and John I say hi?”

Miller snorts. “If they stop arguing long enough to hear me, I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Ouch. That bad?”

“Unfortunately.” Miller sighs and stands. “But they’ll figure it out. They always do.”

“Well,” Monty says, before he can talk himself out of it, “if you need somewhere else to be, Raven and I have a lot of room. It’s not always quiet, but it’s an escape if you need it.”

Miller looks at him for a few seconds before his eyes slowly crinkle up into a bright smile. He looks warm and happy and Monty realizes he’s completely fucked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Monty smiles back, and he can’t fight the butterflies now, so he stops trying. “I’ll text you our address.”

Miller nods. “I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” Monty turns to Raven, who’s standing still, nursing her water, eyes locked on him. “You ready?”

“Absolutely.” She turns to Miller. “Thanks for de-drunking me.”

“Anytime. Don’t be a stranger.” He looks at Monty. “See you later.”

“See you,” Monty echoes before leading Raven out. The night air feels a lot crisper than it did before they were in Grounders, but Monty can’t make himself mind.

Raven watches the door swing shut before turning to Monty. “You liiiiike him,” she sing-songs.

“You’re still a little tipsy, huh?”

“Not too tipsy to forget this in the morning, and you know I won’t let it go, so it’s just easier for both of us if you tell me now.”

Monty sighs. “Okay, yes, I like him. Let’s get going home.”

“Wait!” Raven folds her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it?”

“Yeah. You’ve got to woo him, Monty.”

“I’ve got to woo him?”

She nods seriously. “Woo him. Chocolates and flowers and moonlight serenades.”

“I miss sober Raven,” Monty mutters.

“Me, too.” Raven links her arm through his. “Let’s go home, Romeo. Sober Raven will be back to tease you tomorrow.”

“Great.” But they start off towards home, Monty quiet and Raven humming. He can’t quite place the tune, but it’s familiar. He frowns. “Are you singing that song from Hercules?”

“It’s called I Won’t Say I’m In Love,” Raven says cheerfully. “Because you won’t.”

Monty shakes his head. “I fucking hate you.”

“Let’s watch Hercules when we get home.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

**  
**

 

 

 **noteasybeing_green**  
all tired out after a long night of performing, drinking, and pool. @rockin_raven #wewerewatchingdisney

cgriffin, millernathan, and 13 others like this

 **millernathan** she’s going to have fun waking up.  
 **notfinncollins** i bet’i mmore drukn than herrr,  
 **noteasybeing_green** @notfinncollins yes, you probably are.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The set list that The Sky People perform is [Re-do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqm19gBIsf8) by Modern Baseball, [Bad Blood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoNYlV07Cf8) by Bastille, and [Radioactive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6qFCqOy3HU) as covered by The Macy Kate Band.


	2. Finn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warning for alcohol. Again, all songs are real and will be linked at the end of the chapter.

**FEBRUARY 10**

 

Raven barrels into the Subway next to Clarke’s tattoo shop at 1:47, hair falling out of her ponytail. Finn holds up her sandwich and she takes it, sliding into her seat. “Sorry I’m late,” she huffs, pausing to unwrap her sandwich. “Class ran late, I had to book it here.”

“You’re only two minutes late,” Monty points out.

“Late is late.” Raven shrugs. “So, boss lady, what’s our first order of business?”

“Our name.” Clarke looks around the table. “All in favor of keeping The Sky People?”

Finn doesn’t understand how it’s even a question - Spacewalkers? hello? the best band name ever? - but to his absolute horror, Monty, Clarke, and Raven all raise their hands.

“What?” he complains. “Sky People is a terrible name!”

“Spacewalkers is an indie band that does acoustic covers of ET by Katy Perry,” Raven explains. “The Sky People is a pop-rock-punk-indie fusion band that covers quality music.”

“Or The Sky People is a grunge band full of ugly guys with unwashed hair,” Finn counters.

“Well, you’re in the band so we’re halfway there.” Clarke smirks.

Finn claps his hands over his heart. “You wound me.”

“Just face it,” Monty says, leveling a smugly sympathetic look across the table at Finn. “Your band name has been vetoed.”

“Damn it.” Finn slurps at his Pepsi, trying not to look too sullen. “So we’re The Sky People. We have an official name. Does that mean we’re going to perform again?”

“Maybe,” Clarke allows. Finn doesn’t punch the air, but it’s a close thing. “Like you said, there’s no point to being in a band that doesn’t perform. And last night was a lot of fun, even if we’re all collectively a little hungover.”

Finn winces. He hadn’t meant to drink so much, but it’d been months since he had a night out. Monty looks even more smug, the bastard. Finn’s absolutely sure that if he could have more than just random drinks of Jasper’s beer, he’d have a headache too.

“I passed out on the couch watching Hercules,” Raven mutters.

“I Instagrammed her,” Monty adds cheerfully.

“And Finn and I…” Clarke looks at Finn. “What did we do?”

“Yelled at infomercials for a while and then passed out.” He definitely remembers going on a tirade about Billy Mays.

“Oh.” Clarke looks mildly embarrassed. “Yeah.”

Monty clears his throat. “So what’s our second order of business?”

“What’s our next gig?” Raven suggests. “Are we going to keep up at Grounders?”

“I vote yes,” Finn says. “I mean, did you see how grateful the customers looked when they saw the drums? They don’t get exciting groups often.”

“Agreed,” Clarke says. “We get practice performing, we can expand our set list, and we have some time to think about what to do next.”

“And what’s that going to be?” Monty asks.

“College Comp,” Clarke says. “The one Maya was talking about? I looked it up.”

Finn raises his eyebrows. He knows Clarke prefers low-key performances, things that she doesn’t have to attach her name to, but this competition seems fairly public. “How does it look?”

Clarke begins ticking facts off her fingers. “It’s in three months, there’s a registration fee of four hundred bucks, we need three songs that are twelve to fifteen minutes total, and we have three weeks to register.”

“Four hundred dollars to sign up for a competition we might not even win?” Monty shakes his head. “How can you say that like it’s nothing?”

“Because that’s how I grew up.” Clarke shrugs, mouth twisted down the way it always is when someone points out how rich she is. Finn thinks it was so normal where she grew up that she didn’t realize that people like him and Raven existed.

“But Maya said they only want people who are serious about music.” Raven takes a bite of her sandwich and raises her eyebrows meaningfully at Clarke.

“I don’t know if I’d call us serious yet,” Clarke admits. “But it’s worth a shot, maybe?”

“We’d need better songs,” Monty muses. “I mean, how many bands are going to play Radioactive? We can’t be one of them.”

Finn shrugs. “We can learn others.”

“But most rock songs have an electric guitar. I don’t.” Clarke sighs. “Not to mention, we really need another guitar player.”

“You can buy an electric guitar. And why would we do that?”

“You’ve heard me sing with and without the guitar. Which is better?”

“Without.” Clarke is many things, but a good multitasker she is not. She can laser-focus on one thing at a time, and in her head, singing and guitar are two different things. Finn had to watch her stumble through her first song that she played and sang. That was a train wreck. “Okay, so we need an electric guitarist with widespread taste in music and free time on Sundays and Thursdays, and a better set list. Anything else?”

“More performances and a bigger audience.” Monty taps his fingers on the table. “Jasper was talking about setting up social media. We should get Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, the works.”

“Not a Facebook, only losers still use Facebook.” Raven looks pointedly at Finn, because for some reason she thinks he overuses Facebook. He barely understands her beef with Facebook, let alone why using it is a bad thing.

“Fine, we’ll make a Twitter or something. We’ll get a bigger fan following that way. All in favor?” Clarke raises her hand. So do Monty and Raven. Finn does not, and Clarke glares at him. “Finn, seriously?”

“I think we should have a Facebook. There are people who use it.”

Raven rolls her eyes, but Monty nods. “The more platforms we’re on, the better.”

“Great, you can talk to Jasper about that.” Clarke pushes her chair back. “I’ve got to go, my lunch break’s almost over.”

“1:30 is a terrible time for a lunch break,” Monty says.

“Yeah, but we get a lot of people who come in during their lunch breaks for quick tattoos, and besides, I miss the lunch rush in the restaurants this way.” Clarke dumps her trash in a can. “Practice is on Thursday, see you guys then!”

Raven waves, mouth full of sandwich, and Monty chirps “See you later!” Finn doesn’t bother with either, because he lives with her. First, he has work. Which reminds him: what time is it? He checks his phone - 1:58. Shit.

“Yeah, actually, I’ve gotta go too.” He stands up as quickly as he can. Shit, fuck, shit. “The girl who works before me needed someone to cover the last half of her shift today, and that kind of starts in two minutes.”

Monty frowns. “Don’t you work at the library?”

“Yep.” There’s no way in hell that he’s going to make it to campus in the next two minutes, let alone the library. “I should probably tell her I’m going to be a little late, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, probably,” Monty snorts.

“Hey, Roma’s cool, she’ll be fine.” That is, once she’s done being pissed, but Finn decides to leave that part out. It’s not a big deal, probably. “See you guys Thursday.”

“See you,” Monty says as Raven drawls out “Run, Forest, run.”

Finn makes a special point of flipping her off as he pushes the door open.

 

 

 

**FEBRUARY 11**

Finn isn’t technically a librarian, but he works at the student center in the library. It’s not a fantastic job, and some students come in with pretty appalling questions, but it pays, and foot traffic is so slow that he can do homework while he works. Sure, he’s technically not supposed to, but everyone he works with does it too, and nobody has been fired yet.

He works four days a week, but two of those days he works the same shift as Octavia Blake, and those are his favorite days. Octavia is witty, sweet, and mildly terrifying all at once. Between her, Clarke, and Raven, Finn can see that that’s a definite pattern in what he looks for in friends.

Octavia is also pretty constantly glued to her phone - she refuses to say who she’s texting, but he can tell it’s someone important - so he’s fairly startled when, with no prompting, she stands up straight and says “You know, I saw you on Monday.”

Monday. Music Monday? “You mean you saw the band?”

Octavia’s eyes narrow, and she tilts her head to the side. “No, I mean I passed you on the street and wanted to let you know about it. Of course I mean the band.”

“Hey, maybe passing me on the street is a big deal for you.”

“Yeah, it’s traumatic.”

Finn half-heartedly throws a pencil at her, missing by about a foot. “Very funny.”

“I normally am, yeah.” Octavia goes back to her phone. “But seriously, you never mentioned that you were in a band.”

“The gig was kind of last-minute. You go to Grounders a lot?”

“Every Music Monday and whenever I need coffee. I’ve seen a lot of groups.”

“I bet you’ve heard lots of cheesy acoustic covers.”

Octavia shudders. “You have no idea.”

“Please tell me we’re at least better than that.”

“You’re one of the best groups I’ve heard. But you’d be better with an electric guitar.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so.” Octavia sets her phone on the counter and faces him. “You guys want a traditional rock band sound. No synth, nothing fancy, just good ol’ instruments. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I know I’m not. I also know that an electric guitar would fill out your sound way better than an acoustic. It gives you more of that edgy grind you’re looking for.”

Finn nods. “So is this expertise coming from a lot of bands or from actually playing?”

“Well, I’ve heard plenty of bands, but I also play guitar.”

It’s almost too good to be true. “Are you in a band right now?”

“Nope. Not interested, unless I know they’re good people.”

“How about The Sky People?”

Octavia snorts and goes back to her phone. Finn keeps his eyes on her, even and serious. It’s about twenty seconds before her head snaps up and she stares at him. “Wait, you’re serious.”

Finn shrugs. “Our guitarist says she’d be better just singing, and I trust her word. So we need someone on guitar. You interested?”

“I- yes?”

“Was that a question or an answer?”

“Fuck off, I’m surprised,” she laughs. “I wasn’t expecting you to ask that.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes, so I guess we both got something nice today.”

“Awesome.” Octavia glances at her phone. “What time?”

“Tomorrow at 6, at my apartment. I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay, cool. But just so you know, my brother’s probably going to come by and scope you guys out. Y’know, to make sure you’re not all secretly serial killers.” She rolls her eyes.

Octavia has mentioned her brother before, always with fond exasperation. He hasn’t met the guy, but he’s a security guard on campus and apparently a hardass. She obviously loves him, but she also thinks he’s overbearing. Finn thinks she’s exaggerating, but he’d never say that. He wouldn’t know much about siblings.

“As long as he shows up at the end,” he says mildly. “8:30, no earlier.”

“I’ll let him know.” Octavia starts tapping away at her phone. “And Finn? Thanks.”

“Thanks for not laughing too hard when I asked.”

“I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Yeah, because that helps your case.” Finn leans back against the counter of the help desk. Octavia giggles as she flips him off.

Ah, work. Always better with tolerable coworkers.

 

 

 

When Finn gets home, there’s a microwave lasagna sitting on the kitchen counter. “Um. Clarke?”

“In here,” Clarke calls from her linen closet. Or, well, it’s her art studio, but in the technical sense, it’s a repurposed linen closet. They took down all the shelves so now Clarke has a tiny, narrow closet for slinging paint. She loves it more than Finn thinks it deserves to be loved.

Finn opens the studio-closet door a little wider. Clarke is sitting cross-legged, painting a city street-corner. “Why is there a microwave lasagna on the kitchen counter?”

“Oh, I took it out of the freezer to eat, but then I realized I had to start painting.” She dabs on a splash of grey. “Don’t worry, I’m going to eat before Finn gets home.”

It’s not the first time she’s said something like this to him, so he doesn’t say anything. He waits patiently at the door and watches her absently add colors until she sets her brush on her palette and turns around. “Shit, wait, you are home.”

“Yes, I am. C’mon, princess, let’s get some calories in you.” Finn goes back to the microwave lasagna, decides that it’s probably just as disgusting thawed as it would’ve been frozen, and pops it in the microwave. “So, hey, you know how yesterday you were saying we need a new guitarist?”

“Mmm-hm.” Clarke emerges from the closet-studio and goes over to the sink. Her hands are streaked grey and blue and yellow. “Why?”

Finn opens the fridge, searching for leftovers. Salad? Maybe. Chow mein? Depends how old it is. He lifts it up and sniffs. Probably edible. “Well, it turns out one of my coworkers, Octavia? She saw us performing, and she plays guitar.”

“Oh! That’s good. You should invite her to audition.”

“I already did. She’s going to come over tomorrow.” Finn puts the chow mein on the counter and opens a drawer, digging around for a fork. He doesn’t realize that Clarke’s not saying anything until the microwave starts beeping. “Um. Are you okay?”

“You didn’t think you should, you know… ask me?” Clarke folds her arms, and Finn narrowly avoids cursing under her breath. Clarke doesn’t paint at home most days, but if she does, she’s probably pissed off. He’s not sure why that slipped his mind today, but he wishes it hadn’t.

“I mean, Raven gave us all of twenty minutes notice before she showed up with Monty and a keyboard. I figured it wouldn’t matter.” He assesses her posture. Yeah, rationalizing is just going to piss her off more. “I can tell her to come Sunday, if that would work better. But only if you tell me why tomorrow won’t work.”

“Oh, no, tomorrow works fine!” Clarke says, full of false cheer. “Not like my professor-” she flings open the microwave door- “decided to have a mandatory clinic tomorrow night, and I’m going to miss the first hour of rehearsal.” She slams the lasagna on the counter. “Not like I can’t stand the class anyways, and everyone in it is pretentious as all hell and likes to think they’re better than me because they think they have, fuck, a ‘more nuanced view of life’ or what-fucking-ever.”

Finn shuts the microwave door as gently as possible and hands her a fork. “Breathe, Clarke.”

“I mean, how can you have a nuanced view of life? What does that even mean? You can’t magically view the world as having more or less detail than someone else.” Clarke stabs the lasagna. “It’s like saying you’re more unique and refusing to realize that that’s not how the English language works. You’re either unique or you’re not.”

“As unique as New York,” Finn says, as straight-faced as he can manage.

Clarke makes a face. “Unique New York,” she mutters. “Are you trying to distract me with tongue twisters?”

He shrugs. “Depends. Is it working?”

“Maybe.” She cuts into the lasagna and takes a broody bite. Finn didn’t realize anyone could broodily eat lasagna before he met Clarke, but this is somehow a regular occurrence. Clarke Griffin defies most logic.

Finn goes back to his cold chow mein. He gets in a couple of bites before Clarke puts her head down and moans, “I should’ve been a pre-med major.”

“You say that every time you have a class you don’t like. Did you like bio?”

“I fucking hated bio, you know that.”

“Then you should still be an art major.” Finn takes another bite of chow mein and chews it over, watching Clarke.

She looks over at him. “You don’t really need to change the audition.”

“You sure? She won’t mind, she’s one of the most chill people I’ve ever met.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just…” she slaps a hand on the counter. “Judge on my own. If she’s still there when I get there, I trust you guys to pick well. And if not, we’ll keep looking.”

“All right. I’ll tell Monty and Raven.”

“Thank you.” Clarke turns her head so she’s once again face-down on the counter. Finn eats some more chow mein and wishes, not for the first time, that whoever first wound Clarke into a ball of stress would just fuck off. He suspects that it was her mother, and also that she won’t fuck off, but a man can dream.

After a couple of minutes, Clarke lifts her head and looks at him. “Finn,” she says dolefully. “Oh my god, Finn, I think I’m going out of my mind.”

Finn goes over and rubs her back. “You’ve made it this far, there’s no way that’s happening now.”

“I know.” She picks up her fork and takes a bite of lasagna. “Euch, this is so shitty. Why do I eat this?”

“Because it’s easy to make and I wasn’t there to make you anything better.”

“You should make spaghetti for me to take for lunch tomorrow.”

“One day you have to tell me why you like my spaghetti so much.”

“Because it’s good!”

Finn shakes his head. “You like my cooking more than I like my cooking.”

“Is that a yes on the spaghetti?”

“You make spaghetti and I’ll do the cheese and the butter. Deal?”

Clarke smacks a tomato sauce kiss on his cheek. “Deal.”

“That is revolting.” Finn wipes the back of his hand across his cheek; it comes away orange. “Seriously, that’s really gross.”

“And you’re not even the one eating it.”

“I’m the one who has to go wash chemicals off my face.”

“Quit being a baby.”

Finn rolls his eyes. At least she got out of her funk before it got bad.

 

 

 

To: Raven (10:48 PM)  
got a guitarist, she’s auditioning tmrw

To: Raven (10:49 PM)  
also c’s gonna be an hour late

From: Raven (10:51 PM)  
she’s cool w missing the audition?

To: Raven (10:52 PM)  
that’s what she told me

From: Raven (10:53 PM)  
whatever you say, clarke whisperer

 

 

 

 **Cinn Follins,** you have a new follower on Twitter!

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia

Click here to follow **Octavia Blake.**

 

 

 **  
****FEBRUARY 12** **  
**

Octavia knocks on the apartment door a few minutes before practice starts. Finn glances around, figures that the furniture is pushed far enough against the wall, and opens the door. “Hey.”

“Hey!” Octavia walks in, looking around. “Wow, this is… big. Tell me you have a roommate.”

“Yeah, Clarke’s room is over there. She’s going to be late, by the way. She had something come up at the last minute.”

Octavia sets her beat-up guitar case on the coffee table. “Which one of you is filthy rich?”

Finn grins. “Her. Before I met her, I didn’t realize that you could choose to spend five bucks on coffee daily.”

“That’s way too much.” Octavia unzips the case to reveal a beat-up acoustic guitar. “Is this how you normally set up? With the amps and stuff?”

“Yeah, you can take point till Clarke gets back.” He frowns at the guitar. “You know, Clarke won’t mind if you use her guitar.”

“Nah, Rosie’s been with me since I was twelve.” She pats the body of the guitar fondly before lifting it out of the case. “She’s got my back.”

“You named your guitar Rosie?”

“What, like you didn’t name your drum kit?”

In high school, Finn named his drum kit Dana, but Octavia doesn’t need to know that. “Nope.”

“You’re soulless.” Octavia plucks a string. “So how’s this going to go?”

Finn shrugs. “Pick a song, play it, and if you make it through in one piece you’re probably in. We’ll listen and let you know.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh.” Octavia picks up a guitar pick, running her thumb along the edge. “Was your set Monday the kind of thing you normally play?”

“Yep. Well, maybe not Imagine Dragons, but that’s how we normally sound.”

“Cool.” Octavia sits down on the armchair. “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to warm up.”

“Yeah, sure.” Finn goes over to his drum set and sits down on the stool. Octavia starts playing, humming to herself, and he tunes her out with the ease of someone who lives with a guitarist. He picks up his sticks from where they’re set on the snare and pulls his crash cymbal closer. One day he’ll have a perfect setup, but until then he’ll adjust things millimeter by millimeter.

“Knock, knock,” Raven’s voice says from outside, slightly muffled. “I left my key at home, can someone get this?”

Finn stands up but Octavia beats him to the door. She pulls it open and meets Raven’s curious gaze head-on. “Hi.”

“You’re the guitarist,” Raven guesses.

“Nope, cleaning lady,” Finn answers. Octavia casually flips him off.

Monty slips through the door and crashes on the armchair. “Is the cleaning lady going to audition?”

“No, but Finn’s coworker is.” Octavia smiles at Raven. “I’m Octavia. And you’re the bass player.”

Raven nods. “You saw us Monday?”

“Yeah, you guys were good. You could use an electric guitar, though.”

“Really?” Raven looks pointedly at Octavia’s acoustic. “Did you just not bring yours?”

“Don’t have one.” Octavia shrugs. “I’ll get one, if you want me in the band. It’d be good for your sound.”

Raven nods in approval. “I’m Raven. Let’s hear what you got.” Octavia steps back from the door, and Raven goes to sit on the arm of the armchair. “What’re you playing for us?”

Octavia closes the door and takes Clarke’s position in the front of the setup. “You guys need some classic rock,” she announces. “So I’m going to play Renegade by Styx.”

Monty nods. “Good choice.”

“Says the guy who auditioned with Imagine frickin’ Dragons,” Raven mutters.

Finn leans forward. He was so excited that Octavia was auditioning that he hadn’t stopped to wonder whether or not Octavia could actually play well. Now, though, he’s nervous. He trusts Octavia, but he probably should’ve checked that. It’s kind of important, after all.

He doesn’t have time to worry, though, because Octavia plays a loud chord and sings, “Oh, mama, I’m in fear for my life.” Her voice isn’t great, but the chord sounded good, and they’re not asking her to sing. She strums a little bit and keeps going.

Finn glances over at Raven. Good? he mouths.

Raven’s eyes flick over to him, and she nods slightly. Monty, holding up his phone, flashes him a thumbs-up. Finn nearly punches the air. He doesn’t know the first thing about pitched instruments, but if they say it’s good then it’s probably good.

“-don’t have very long.” Octavia pauses before launching into the chorus, her chords becoming more emphatic. “The jig is up, the noose is out, they finally found me-”

She has a good sense of rhythm, Finn notes. Her tempo is consistent, if a little slower than the original song, and she knows what rhythmic patterns fit what she’s singing. That’s a good sign. Now for the real test.

“Don’t stop playing,” Finn says, adjusting his sticks in his hand as Octavia sings the chorus. She shoots him a look over her shoulder and nods when she sees what he’s doing.

“On a wanted man,” she sings, and Finn starts playing a simple rock groove, just a bit slower than what Octavia’s playing. Enough to throw her off, at least. And for a second she does look thrown, shoulders coming up in surprise, but he watches her take a deep breath and come back in, adjusting to his new tempo. “Oh, mama, I’ve been years on the lam and got a high price on my head.”

Raven settles back in the chair, looking satisfied. Finn silently thanks god that out of all the things Octavia’s good at, this is one of them. The rest of the song is smooth sailing, complete with a couple of flourishes on both of their parts. Their only stumble is the ending, when Finn takes a full measure to realize Octavia is finished.

“I’m pretty sure Styx kept playing longer than that, you know,” he says, settling back in his seat.

“Right, because it’s my fault you weren’t listening to me playing.”

“Oh, she’s going to fit right in.” Raven pushes off the couch. “I vote yes.”

“Ditto,” Finn says. “Although you never told me you were good.”

“Better than you, you came in under tempo.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t intentional or anything. Not like I wanted to make sure you could adapt.”

Octavia’s jaw drops. Raven laughs.

“Clarke says yes,” Monty says, still looking at his phone. “I recorded it and sent it to her. She also says she’ll be home in an hour.”

“You recorded it?” Finn repeats. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Yup.”

“That was smart.”

“Yup.” He looks up at Octavia. “I’m Monty, by the way. Welcome to The Sky People, where we all make fun of each other all the time.”

“That’s what friendship really is,” Raven says cheerfully. “Finn, go find one of Clarke’s chord sheets so Octavia has something to read off of. We’re going to run Burn It Down.”

Finn grins. “Aye-aye, cap’n.”

 

 

 

The rest of rehearsal goes by quickly. Clarke shows up midway through, greets Octavia, and takes over singing without any issue at all. Octavia reads the chords pretty well, and Clarke suggests adding Renegade to their repertoire, and basically everything goes about as well as it possibly could. Almost too well, which is why Finn isn’t surprised so much as annoyed when things take a turn south.

Rehearsal’s over, and Octavia’s putting Rosie back in her case, and Raven’s in the kitchen, and someone knocks on the door.

Finn glances at Octavia. “That’d be your brother?”

“Probably,” she sighs.

“All right, cool. Next practice is Sunday night, same time. We’ll email you all the chords and stuff.” Finn pushes himself up from the couch. The brother knocks on the door again, and he rolls his eyes. “What if I went to answer the door really, really slowly?”

“Then I’d get it faster,” Clarke answers from the kitchen.

“Yeah, fine.” Finn goes over to the door, pulls it open, and really, why wouldn’t Octavia’s protective older brother be Raven’s dickish ex-boyfriend? That would require fate not hating them. All things considered, he thinks his response of “Well, shit” is pretty mild.

“Hello to you too,” Bellamy says, desert dry.

“Finn, what-” Clarke comes out from the kitchen and spots Bellamy. Her face hardens immediately. “Oh.”

“Ooooookay,” Octavia says slowly, looking between all of them. “So, this is my brother, Bellamy, but I’m going to guess you already knew that.”

“I didn’t,” Monty volunteers from the couch, still fixated on his phone.

Bellamy ignores him. “O, out of all the bands on campus, why did you have to join one with my ex?”

“With-” Octavia’s eyes bulge. “You dated Finn?”

“Whoa, hey, let’s not be hasty,” Finn says quickly. Sure, he’d nail Bellamy in an instant if he could - the man is a security guard, for Christ’s sake, Finn is only human - but his breakup with Raven had been ugly. Finn’s not going near that with a ten-foot pole.

“No, not Finn,” Bellamy says, long-suffering.

“Me, actually,” Raven says. Her voice is forcedly light, and it sets off every alarm in Finn’s head. “What was it, a year ago?”

“Something like that.” Bellamy cranes his neck towards the kitchen. “Do you really still live here?”

Finn glances at the kitchen; Raven is digging through the fridge and pointedly not looking at Bellamy. “No, I don’t,” she answers, and her voice sounds a little tighter now, and Finn has to remind himself that this is his coworker’s brother and she’ll kick his ass if he punches him. “Monty and I live a couple blocks away. What about you, still all alone?”

If it bothers Bellamy, he doesn’t show it. “Look, I’m not here to start a war, I just wanted to make sure it was still you guys who lived here and not some kind of drug smugglers or something.”

“Bell, I can join a band of drug smugglers if I want to,” Octavia says exasperatedly.

“Uh, no, you can’t, I wouldn’t let you”

“Well, we’re not drug smugglers.” Clarke folds her arms. “So you can leave.”

“Hey, hold up.” Octavia frowns. “I get that he’s not your favorite person, but he’s also my brother, and he’s going to be around from time to time.”

“We get that. We don’t want to devalue that.” Finn sighs. “He can be here from time to time, that’s not the issue. The issue is-”

Raven slams the fridge door shut and looks at Octavia. “The issue is that he picked a fight with me about how I lived with two of my exes, and it devolved into a screaming match where we both said some pretty nasty things, and that was the last time I saw him. I can’t control if he comes here, or if you want him here, but I’m going to control how much I see him. That all right with you?”

“Can I really say no?” Octavia mutters.

“You can say whatever you want, I don’t give a damn. Just don’t force me to be around him.” Raven turns back around. Finn doesn’t think twice before going to the kitchen and putting an arm around her shoulders. He doesn’t look back.

“Let’s go, O,” Bellamy says, voice tinged with something heavy. Like he’s the one who gets to be upset about this.

“Yeah, all right,” Octavia sighs. “Nice meeting most of you. See you tomorrow, Finn.”

“See you at work,” Finn says without turning around. He waits until he hears the door close to pull Raven in closer to his side. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Raven leans her head on his shoulder, which means she’s actually not good, but he lets it slide. He wouldn’t be, either. “Did you know he was her brother?”

“I knew their last names, but I didn’t think they were related.”

“He’s such a prick.”

“Yeah, he is.” Finn gives her a comforting squeeze. “Octavia will understand. She complains about Bellamy all the time.”

“I complain about you, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t shank someone for you.” Raven slips out from underneath his arm. “It’s fine. As long as she lets me know before I see him, I’ll be okay.”

“He seems like a fucking asshole,” Monty says. Finn looks back at him; his phone’s in his lap, and he’s leaning forward, looking earnest. “And like he doesn’t even realize it.”

“He’s not all bad.” Raven reaches into the fridge and pulls out a loaf of bread. Finn immediately finds the peanut butter; peanut butter sandwiches have been her comfort food for as long as he can remember. “It’s just that sometimes he’s really fucking awful, and he happened to be really fucking awful to me when he was supposed to be the opposite.”

“I always thought he was an asshole,” Clarke mutters, sitting next to Monty. “But that’s just me.”

“Octavia’s all right, though,” Finn says. “She got all the good genes.”

“Yeah, she sounded good, too.” Raven glances around. “Do you have any-” Finn holds out the peanut butter jar, and she smiles crookedly. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Finn brushes his hand against her side as he goes back to the couch. “So what’s on TV?”

 

 

 

From: Octavia (8:47 PM)  
I swear he’s not normally like that

From: Octavia (8:48 PM)  
You probably knew that

From: Octavia (8:48 PM)  
But it’s worth saying

To: Octavia (8:51 PM)  
dont worry abt it

From: Octavia (8:53 PM)  
If it really bothers Raven I can tell him to fuck off

To: Octavia (8:54 PM)  
she says thx but no thx

To: Octavia (8:56 PM)  
just let her know before he shows up

From: Octavia (8:56 PM)  
Can do

From: Octavia (9:02 PM)  
I’m still in the band right?

To: Octavia (9:04 PM)  
if u still want to be

From: Octavia (9:07 PM)  
Absolutely.

 

 

 

 **FEBRUARY 13** **  
**

“Why do you only have five songs?”

“How can you think enough to talk while you’re playing that?” Finn demands.

Octavia doesn’t even bother looking up from her phone, where she’s playing some complicated-looking game involving many, many squares. “Talking and focusing are two different parts of the brain, or something. Why is your set list so tiny?”

“I don’t think five songs is that small. Also, it’s your set list now too.”

“If I had an electric I’d make it way longer.”

“Why do you need an electric?”

“Because some songs aren’t meant to be on an acoustic.” Two squares collide, and she grimaces. “Shit.”

“I’ll let you know if we can ever get an electric.” It’s not likely, but given Clarke’s penchant for buying people things, it’s also not unlikely. “Till then, you’ll be playing Styx on an acoustic.”

“Styx on an acoustic?” someone repeats. “Sounds like a bad idea.” Finn turns around and sees Bellamy, in his campus guard uniform, leaning against the help counter. He takes a second to appreciate the view before reminding himself that this is Raven’s ex and he is very, very off-limits.

“Oh, thank god it’s just you, I thought it was someone who actually needed help.” Octavia doesn’t even bother looking up. “Hey, have you gotten past level twenty-four of Block Blast?”

“I’m still on seventeen.”

Octavia makes a frustrated noise. “Damn it. I keep hitting this weird needle wall.”

“Needle wall?” Bellamy comes around to their side of the counter and leans across to see the phone. “What the hell?”

Finn glances at his own phone. His shift’s over. Thank god. “Well, I’m heading out, Clarke and I are bringing back Bad Movie Fridays.”

“Watch The Room,” Bellamy advises.

Octavia smacks him on the arm. “You’re supposed to be playing nice, don’t tell him to watch that shit movie.”

“Thanks, but it’s too late. We’ve watched it half a dozen times already.” Finn slings his bag over his shoulder. “See you Sunday, Octavia.”

“Yeah, see you.” Octavia waves over her shoulder.

“Bye,” Bellamy adds. Finn doesn’t grace him with a response.

 

 

 

From: Octavia (8:17 PM)  
Are you giving my brother the cold shoulder

To: Octavia (8:18 PM)  
yes

To: Octavia (8:18 PM)  
or actually no

From: Octavia (8:19 PM)  
???

To: Octavia (8:22 PM)  
im cold shouldering my best friend’s ex who happens to be your brother

From: Octavia (8:23 PM)  
Makes sense

From: Octavia (8:24 PM)  
Play nice w/ him though

To: Octavia (8:25 PM)  
fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine

 

 

 

**FEBRUARY 15**

Monty and Raven leave Sunday night rehearsal forty minutes after it technically ends, leaving Clarke, Finn, and a pervasive sense of disappointment. Finn knows which one of those he’d get rid of if he could. They move all the drums and furniture back where they belong and then sit side-by-side on the couch.

“I thought we’d be better,” Clarke sighs.

“Me, too.” Finn leans against her shoulder. “But we’ve got time.”

“Not a lot, if we want to do College Comp.”

“Do we want to do College Comp?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Finn twists around and props his chin on her shoulder. “Do you want to do College Comp?”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, which is a bigger yes than Finn was prepared for.

“Well,” he says, settling back against her and reaching for the remote. “We’ve got a couple weeks. We don’t have to sign up if we’re not ready. And our first dozen rehearsals as a trio were shit, remember?”

“That’s because you kept getting distracted in the middle of songs.”

“Not the point.”

“Totally the point.” Clarke grabs the remote out of his hand. “Let’s watch reality TV and not think about how terrible that rehearsal was.”

It wasn’t actually bad, which is probably the problem. Octavia’s audition was great, and she got the hang of their musical style in no time flat. But that practice had been average. Finn’s secure enough in his optimism to admit that he was hoping for something fantastic, something that brought them together in a new way.

Maybe they’re fated to be a mediocre band. There are worse things to be.

 

 

 

 **FEBRUARY 21** **  
**

To: Clarke (5:32 PM)  
clarke

To: Clarke (5:33 PM)  
why did an electric guitar just show up at our door

To: Clarke (5:35 PM)  
why did i just have to sign for an electric guitar

To: Clarke (5:41 PM)  
do u even have an amp for this

To: Clarke (5:58 PM)  
claaaaaaaaaaaaaarke

**Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
one of life’s great mysteries: why isn’t @cgriffin answering her phone?

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@notfinncollins Some of us are working today, Finn.

From: Clarke (7:23 PM)  
Oh my god, it got here?

To: Clarke (7:25 PM)  
what do you think

From: Clarke (7:41 PM)  
It wasn’t scheduled till Monday!

To: Clarke (7:42 PM)  
well obviously it’s here early

To: Clarke (7:50 PM)  
is it for o?

From: Clarke (8:26 PM)  
I’m working on the amp, don’t worry. Hide it somewhere?

To: Clarke (8:28 PM)  
why

From: Clarke (8:40 PM)  
Because it’s a surprise?

From: Clarke (8:41 PM)  
Please help me surprise her??

To: Clarke (8:45 PM)  
one day that big heart is gonna get u into trouble princess

To: Clarke (8:47 PM)  
also the guitar is in my bedroom if u need it

From: Clarke (9:30 PM)  
Wait, did you open a package meant for me?

To: Clarke (9:33 PM)  
maybe

From: Clarke (9:34 PM)  
You’re the worst.

To: Clarke (9:38 PM)  
and yet you still live w me

 

 

 

 **FEBRUARY 25** **  
**

“So, hypothetically,” Finn starts.

“Oh, no, I’m scared,” Octavia says in a monotone. She doesn’t even pause in her texting.

“No, no, just go with me here. If you could perform any song in the world, what would you pick?”

Her eyes flick up at him for half a second before settling back on her phone. “Are we finally expanding?”

“Considering it,” he lies. The truth is, he’s asked Clarke, Raven, and Monty, and none of them know where to start with an electric guitar. Besides, this gift is for Octavia, so she should decide what they do with it. Why not give her the best version of Griffin generosity that they can?

“Well, there’s not much of a point if we don’t have an electric.”

“Okay, fine, what are some songs we can bastardize with the acoustic?”

“This was your band first, don’t you have opinions?”

“Burn It Down was my opinion. All of us put one song on our current set list, and we’re not sure what else to do. You have a lot of ideas.” He shrugs. “Lay ‘em on me.”

At last, Octavia puts down her phone, looking thoughtful. “Any song?”

“Whatever you want.”

“What if I said Uptown Funk?”

Finn holds his hand out for a high-five. Octavia obliges, grinning as she does.

“No, but seriously. The Offspring. Some Weezer.”

“Sure. What else?”

“We’d play Renegade, for sure.”

Finn nods. “Obviously.”

“And…” Octavia grimaces. “I don’t know.” She leans around Finn, focusing on something behind him. He looks over his shoulder and sees Bellamy. Of course. “What music do I like?”

“Five Seconds of Summer,” Bellamy answers, just poker-faced enough that Finn can’t tell whether or not he’s joking.

“Maybe,” Octavia allows. “Could we cover pop songs?”

“Raven wants to do All About That Bass.”

“Oh, god, why. Tell me we won’t.”

“Clarke says yes, but only if we change some of the words.”

“Good call.”

“Wait, isn’t that that really peppy pop song?” Bellamy frowns. “Why would you want to cover that?”

“The surprise factor.” Finn shrugs and picks up his bag. “I mean, we look kind of punk.”

Octavia grins. “I saw Monty’s pictures. Do the cool outfits come with being in the band?”

“I mean, we all owned everything already.” He frowns. “Except Monty. None of that was his. Raven stole it all from someone.”

“Raven what?” Bellamy raises his eyebrows. Finn heroically fights down the urge to tell him to keep Raven’s name out of his mouth. “Does she do that?”

“Yeah, she steals clothes from guys she sleeps with who turn out to be assholes.”

“So did she steal yours?” Octavia asks innocently.

He was actually the first person she did it to, although they hadn’t slept together yet. “No, never. Text me any more songs you think of?”

“No problem. Rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Yep, See you.”

“Bye, Finn,” Bellamy adds. This time Finn has to consciously bite back his goodbye.

**  
**

 

 

From: 703-555-1374 (9:00 PM)  
She likes Arctic Monkeys.

To: 703-555-1374 (9:02 PM)  
sorry bro i think this is the wrong number

From: 703-555-1374 (9:03 PM)  
It’s Bellamy.

To: 703-555-1374 (9:04 PM)  
oh. u mean octavia?

From: 703-555-1374 (9:08 PM)  
Her favorite is Do I Wanna Know. She plays it all the time on her acoustic.

From: 703-555-1374 (9:09 PM)  
There are chords online. She likes it better up-tempo.

To: 703-555-1374 (9:11 PM)  
thank u

From: 703-555-1374 (9:12 PM)  
Don’t mention it.

Add to contacts?  
Save contact as: Bellamy (ew)

 

 

 

 **FEBRUARY 26** **  
**

Raven and Monty get to the apartment an hour early so they can run Do I Wanna Know sans Octavia. It’s slow going, but they get it to halfway-performable within the hour. Finn counts that as a win.

“You didn’t do anything like this for me,” Monty says.

“You’re pretty easy to make happy.” Raven shrugs.

Monty mulls it over and nods. “True.”

“Also, my quote-unquote ‘expensive’ gift to you was your bed.” Clarke pauses. “And your armchair. And a couple of dressers. But they were all secondhand.”

“The coffee table was new,” Finn reminds her.

Raven glares at Clarke. “You said you didn’t spend too much on anything.”

“I don’t think Clarke understands overkill the same way the rest of us do.” Monty starts playing lazy scales. “She shows her love through expensive gifts and refusing to treat them like a big deal.”

“That’s-” Clarke crosses her arms. “Only sort of true.”

“Nope, I think he’s got you pegged.” Finn grins at Monty, who offers a thumbs-up before continuing his scales. “You like giving people things.”

“Well, who doesn’t want to make their friends happy?”

Nobody argues with that, and Finn mentally concedes the point to her. She’s not wrong. “We never said that was a bad thing.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Clarke moves to answer it before Finn has time to react. “Nobody tip her off,” she orders before answering the door. “Hey! You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m-” Octavia cuts off, staring over Clarke’s shoulder. Finn follows her eyes. The electric is already there, leaning against the wall, in plain view. Damn it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Raven says in amazement. “We forgot to hide it?”

“We what?” Clarke turns around and deflates at the sight of the guitar. “Oh.”

“Why the hell were you hiding this?” Octavia demands. She pushes past Clarke, pulling Rosie off her back as she goes. “When were you going to tell me you got an electric?”

“After we told you that we added a new song to the set,” Monty says, without pausing in his playing. It’s not scales anymore - chords? arpeggios? Finn can’t remember. Definitely fancy.

Octavia sets Rosie against the wall and gently picks up the electric. “New song?”

“We heard you like Arctic Monkeys.”

She gawks at him. “Am I being punked?”

“Nah, you’re just getting Clarke Griffin’s patented ‘I’m rich and benevolent’ treatment.” Raven smiles. “You already know Do I Wanna Know, right?”

“If she doesn’t, she’s gonna wanna know,” Finn quips. Even Monty rolls his eyes. “Aw, c’mon, that was great.”

“Yeah, I know the chords.” Octavia lifts the electric’s neck strap around her neck. “And you guys know it?”

“That’s why we were here.” Monty stops playing at last. “Are we good to run it?”

“Maybe not a run. To the end of the first chorus?” Clarke shuts the door and takes her position. “Everyone ready?”

“Clarke,” Octavia says quietly, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m taking the guitar back if you sound like shit. And the amp, too.”

Finn decides not to undermine her by telling Octavia that Clarke literally found the amp on the side of the road and asked Monty to fix it up. Instead, he picks up his drumsticks. “How fast are we taking it?”

“Walking speed,” Raven suggests.

He glances at Octavia. “Can you handle that?”

“Absolutely.” Octavia plays a chord, frowns, and fiddles with a tuning peg. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

The beginning is simple enough that Finn can lock in a tempo immediately. He starts, just at the tempo that they’d been practicing, and Octavia takes a deep breath and plays the riff. And, okay, maybe it’s the guitar or Octavia playing it or something about the song, but he thinks this is the spark they wanted two weeks ago. Judging by the way Raven laughs and the look of surprise on Monty’s face, he’s not the only one who thinks so.

Clarke pulls her shoulders back and lifts her head, and she looks like the queen of the world. She takes a breath and croons out, “Have you got color in your cheeks?”

And, well. Finn never thought magic was real when he was a kid, but maybe it’s better to start late than never, because there’s something undeniably magical about how good they sound. If nothing else, the universe must owe them some ridiculously good karma.

They make it through the song, through the chorus, stop as planned, and Clarke turns around to face them. She looks fiercely happy. Actually, looking around, everyone does.

“That,” Clarke says, “is why we’re all here.”

“Holy shit,” Monty murmurs.

Octavia’s fingers tighten around the neck of the guitar. “That was.” She swallows, starts again. “That was unreal.”

That’s a good word to describe it, Finn thinks. Unreal. Or maybe surreal. Like a good dream, unexpected and brilliant. He looks at Raven, who gives him a starry smile, and slowly, he smiles back. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“Do?” Octavia repeats. “Add it to the set list?”

“Well, yeah, but there’s only so far Music Mondays are going to carry us. We need something bigger.”

“You mean College Comp,” Monty guesses.

“Absolutely.” He looks at Octavia. “You know about College Comp?”

She snorts. “How can you live in Virginia and not know about College Comp?”

“Uh, be from West Virginia?” Finn shakes his head. “We all want to do this, right? We all care about this band?”

“Yeah, but isn’t there some kind of registration fee?” Octavia crosses her arms. “How are we going to get the money for that?”

Finn doesn’t actually look at Clarke, but Monty and Raven both do. He smirks. “I get the feeling it’ll get paid. C’mon. We have to.”

“Finn’s right,” Clarke decides. “The worst thing that happens is we get some experience performing and don’t win, right? Why not?”

“I’m in,” Monty adds. “And Jasper will bring a small army of fans if we need one.”

“It’ll be fun.” Octavia shrugs. “I’ll clear my calendar.”

Raven adjusts her bass. “Then we’d better practice, because there’s no way in hell we’re entering without a damn good program.”

 

 

 

From: botb@arkrecords.net  
To: cgriffin@mwu.edu, fcollins@mwu.edu, rreyes@mwu.edu, oblake@mwu.edu, mgreen@mwu.edu  
Subj: Registration

Contestants,

Thank you for signing up for ARK Record’s College Competition! At this time, we’re still finalizing our roster of performers. We will notify you as soon as we have a finished list. Please add ARK Records to your address book so our emails don’t get caught in your spam filter. We will send out updates on the competition as they develop. The Battle of the Bands will be on May 2nd at the Crewson College Events Center. Thank you for your interest, and we look forward to seeing you perform!

Best of luck,

ARK Records

 

 

 

From: Octavia (2:11 PM)  
I didn’t tell you i like AM music

To: Octavia (2:14 PM)  
then how’d i know about it?

From: Octavia (2:15 PM)  
Why did bell say he needed your number?

From: Octavia (2:17 PM)  
S/t about helping you with a history assignment?

To: Octavia (2:24 PM)  
you’re too smart for ur own good

From: Octavia (2:26 PM)  
Thank you for not deleting it as soon as you realized it was him

To: Octavia (2:29 PM)  
that’s a low standard. yw.

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 1**

“We’re going to learn a ballad,” Raven announces.

Finn doesn’t turn around. “Fuck, no.” Ballads mean the drum part is either shitty or nonexistent. Rearranging the fridge is more important than a song where he doesn’t play.

“What did you do to your leg?” Clarke demands.

“Fell down the stairs, not a big deal. I’m totally fine.”

“That’s why she’s limping,” Monty says drily.

Wait. What?

“You hurt your leg?” Finn whips around, slamming the fridge shut. Raven is leaning heavily on Monty, but she’s still on her own two feet. “What the fuck happened?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Raven pushes away from Monty and limps to her amp, clutching a few sheets of paper. Probably chords for the fucking ballad. “It’s fine, I tripped down the stairs on Friday night and landed wrong. It only hurts when I stand on it.”

“So naturally, she insisted on walking here.” Monty rolls his eyes, but Finn can tell that he’s worried. “We can get a ride home, right?”

“Absolutely.” Clarke leans over and plucks a chord sheet out of Raven’s hands. “Jet Pack Blues?”

“Yeah, it’s Fall Out Boy.”

Octavia pokes her head in the front door. “We’re playing Fall Out Boy?”

“As a ballad,” Finn adds quickly.

She frowns. “Why would we play a ballad?”

“Variety,” Monty explains. “Even rock bands have slow songs.”

“Yeah, but not ballads. Rock ballads.”

Clarke sighs. “Tell you what, we’ll try it out with just piano and vocals, and if it’s boring, we’ll let everyone play.”

“Ballads are always boring,” Finn complains, but he sits down at his drums anyways. “And I refuse to believe that Fall Out Boy wrote a song without a drum part.”

“Give it a shot,” Raven protests. “This is a good song. It’s going to be great.”

**  
**

 

 

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
i don’t normally say “i told you so” but, hey, @rockin_raven? i told you so.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@notfinncollins i don’t need to take this from someone who still uses facebook

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@rockin_raven that’s not me, that’s @cgriffin

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@notfinncollins @rockin_raven Do NOT drag me into this.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@notfinncollins @cgriffin why clarke why

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@notfinncollins I give you your rock ballad and THIS is how you repay me?

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@cgriffin it’s every man for himself clarke

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@notfinncollins Does that mean you can’t eat the groceries I buy anymore?

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@cgriffin CLARKE NO

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 6**

Finn is about to leave work when Octavia says, “What am I going to wear on Monday?”

“Something red and black, probably.” He turns to look at her. “Why, do you need help picking clothes?”

“I don’t own much that fits your style.” She shrugs. “I don’t know if I need help, but it’d probably be nice to have it.”

“Okay, would you rather have Clarke or Raven?”

“Why not you?”

Finn pointedly looks at his shoes - which have carried him through three years of school and look like it, too - and back at Octavia.

“Those are kind of gross,” she admits. “Worse than Bellamy’s.”

“Than - what?” Finn turns around and nearly elbows Bellamy in the ribs, because he’s apparently standing right the fuck behind him. “Jesus, dude, a little warning?”

“Sorry.” Bellamy doesn’t look very apologetic, but he moves back anyways. “What are worse than mine?”

“My shoes, apparently.” Finn looks at Bellamy’s shoes. They’re a little scuffed, sure, but he’s pretty sure that they were ugly before that, too. “I’ve got to agree. Mine are falling apart.”

“Clarke can buy me a guitar but she can’t buy you new shoes?”

“She could, but it always feels like it’s charity when she buys me clothes.” He shrugs, trying not to feel self-conscious about it. He suspects that the Blakes are closer to his end of the financial spectrum than Clarke’s, but it’s still not something he likes talking about. “Anyways, she’s good with clothes. She can help you prep for the concert before dinner, if you want.”

“We’re going out for dinner before the concert?”

“Staying in. I make spaghetti. It’s really average, but Clarke and Monty like it.”

“Oh. Cool.” Octavia looks from Finn to Bellamy, and Finn can actually see the moment she has an idea. “Hey, Bell, you were talking about driving equipment to Grounders, right?”

Finn looks at him in surprise. “You were?”

Bellamy clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “If having another car would help, I’d do it, yeah.”

“It’d definitely help, Clarke’s car is fucking tiny. We won’t be able to fit all of us and all of our stuff.”

“Well,” Octavia says brightly, “if you’re going to be there anyways, why don’t you help Finn make dinner?”

“What,” Bellamy says.

Finn shrugs. “Can you make salad?”

“I can… open a bag of salad?”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Finn smiles, and Bellamy shifts awkwardly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, though.”

“I want to,” Bellamy answers quickly. Finn raises his eyebrows. “I might as well, right? If nothing else it’s a good apology for almost causing a fight at O’s first practice.”

“Ooh, that’s a nice spin on it.” Octavia sounds like she’s looking at her phone again. “Can you ask Clarke to help me?”

“No problem, we’ll figure out the times next practice.” Finn nods at Bellamy. “I’ll let you know what time you can come over.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye, Finn!” Octavia chirps.

“See you guys.” He waves as he leaves. It’s not until he’s outside the library that he realizes he said goodbye to Bellamy this time. Well, sort of.

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 8**

Stealing your roommate’s phone is completely normal social behavior. Finn said so when he had a roommate in the dorms, he said so when Raven lived with him, and he says so as he swipes Clarke’s phone after practice to play Piano Tiles. He likes beating her high scores and watching her try to top him. It’s fun.

It’s a legitimate mistake when he opens her text messages. He goes to tap a tile at the top of the screen as Clarke gets a new text and accidentally opens the notification instead. Honestly, he doesn’t want to see Clarke’s messages. Her life is her life, just like his life is his. There are intersections between them but their business is their business.

Except.

From: Mom (8:54 PM)  
Why did you buy a new guitar?

Finn stares at it for a few seconds. There are messages above it, which he ignores,but he wonders if they’re about this, too. And why wouldn’t they be? Clarke spent four hundred dollars on their registration, another couple hundred on the guitar - that’s the kind of thing that would get Abby’s attention. Especially when, as far as Abby knows, Clarke playing guitar is nothing but a hobby.

Slowly, Finn moves his thumb and gets back to Piano Tiles. He doesn’t want Clarke to think he’s snooping. He waits until she plops down on the couch next to him, art textbook in lap, to hand her phone back. “Your mom texted you.”

Clarke stares at him. “What?”

“Your mom?” He raises his eyebrows. “Sent you a text? I opened it by mistake, but it’s still there if you want to read it.”

She takes her phone. “Thanks,” she says, although she doesn’t sound like she means it. Finn really, really hopes that she’s not fighting with Abby. That’s never any good for anybody.

**  
**

 

 

To: Bellamy (ew) (8:59 PM)  
looks like dinner will be ~7 so come over around 6:40?

From: Bellamy (ew) (9:00 PM)  
Yeah, see you tomorrow

Update contact information: Bellamy (ew)  
Change name: Bellamy  
Changes saved

**  
**

 

 

Direct messages with **@therealjasperj**

Hey I set up a Twitter/Insta for the band @theskypeople, Monty says you’d be best to help run it. You want the password?

absolutely hmu

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 9**

The Sky People @theskypeople  
Make sure you check us out TONIGHT at @grounderscoffee right at 8:40 PM! Get good music and good coffee!

**  
**

 

 

Bellamy knocks on the door promptly at 6:40, looking both self-assured and embarrassed. “Hey.”

“Hey, thanks for helping out.” Finn goes to the kitchen, leaving Bellamy to close the door. “I’ll do spaghetti, you can cut up peppers and carrots and shit.”

“That’s more work than I thought salad would be.”

“Yeah, Clarke found some recipe on Food Network and bought a bunch of fresh vegetables for it.” He’s not sure how Clarke can go from eating radioactive microwavable lasagna to insisting on the freshest veggies for their salad, but she manages it.

Bellamy is a good silent partner. He cuts all the vegetables without complaint, tosses them in a bowl with lettuce - not organic, because Finn refused to allow Clarke to spend extra on fucking organic lettuce - and even crushes some ramen to throw in and add texture. He acts like he knows what he’s doing in a kitchen. Did he cook when he was dating Raven? Finn can’t remember.

“Do you cook a lot?” Bellamy asks as Finn starts adding butter to the spaghetti.

“When I have time.” Finn gets the parmesan cheese out of the fridge. “My parents were on a first-name basis with all our local delivery people, and I didn’t want that to be me. I know a lot of really basic food things, and I can combine them to make good food.”

Bellamy watches him pour parmesan on the spaghetti. “...good food?”

“Are you judging my spaghetti?”

“I’d never,” Bellamy answers, in a way that makes it clear that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, it’s decent.” He starts stirring. “What about you, do you cook?”

“Not until I left home. I learned a lot of interesting ways to make ramen.”

“Add a teaspoon of vinegar. It’s awesome.”

“That’s an abomination.”

“Are you going to keep insulting my cooking, or do you want to stay?” Finn throws a smile over his shoulder to make sure Bellamy knows he’s kidding.

“I can bake, though,” Bellamy says as Finn starts forking spaghetti on plates.

“Really?”

“Yeah. When Octavia was a kid, she had the biggest sweet tooth. We made a lot of cookies together. She was the reason I knew anything about cooking before I moved out.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.” He frowns. “Sort of. The first thing I learned to cook was mac and cheese because it was Raven’s favorite.”

As expected, Bellamy clams right up as soon as Finn says Raven’s name. There’s a lot unresolved there, but apparently Bellamy wants it resolved as much as Finn does. The silence only lasts another minute before Bellamy says quietly, “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“That’s good. But you did.” Finn puts the fork back in the pot of spaghetti and turns to look coolly at Bellamy. “Step one to making amends is admitting that you did something wrong.”

Bellamy drops his head. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You weren’t. It’s not your place to police her life. Or anyone’s. Have you at least apologized?”

“She doesn’t let me talk to her.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Bellamy glares at Finn through his eyelashes. “That doesn’t help.”

“I’m not trying to be helpful, I’m just trying to get shit done.” When his friends don’t get along, he’ll do all the meddling necessary to get them to get along again.

Shit, wait, when did Bellamy become a friend?

Thankfully, he’s saved from that particular introspective path by the door opening. “Knock, knock,” Clarke calls as she enters. “Check out our newest fashion icon.”

“I dunno, I’m not sold,” Octavia says. She pauses to pose in the living room. “How do I look?”

“Did you already own that dress?” Bellamy says, protectiveness coating every syllable. Finn understands; it’s a tight, tight red minidress. She’s wearing long black gloves without fingers and a slouchy white cardigan. Somehow, it all looks totally badass.

“Damn,” Finn says eloquently.

Octavia grins. “Okay, so that’s one vote yes. I don’t like the hair, though.”

“I’d do your hair if we had more time,” Bellamy says apologetically.

Octavia shrugs. “Next time. Although I think this needs boots, not flats.” She looks at her shoes distastefully. “How’d dinner-making go?”

“You didn’t put my dressing on the salad,” Clarke says reproachfully, picking up a plate of spaghetti.

“Your salad dressing is fucking gross,” Raven says, pulling Monty through the door behind her. “Unless it’s new salad dressing.”

Monty waves at Octavia. “Nice dress.”

“Nice hair,” Octavia says, because she’s an asshole like that. Monty is still obviously not used to the gel, and he grimaces at her.

“How’s your leg?” Finn asks Raven. She’s still limping, but she’s hiding it better now. Unfortunately for her, he’s seen her hide a limp before.

She waves him off. “I can stand when I perform, don’t worry. And I’m still walking.”

“But you’re okay?”

Raven’s eyes soften, and she pats him on the shoulder. “I’m fine. Go get dressed.”

“Go what?” Finn looks down. He’s not wearing his concert outfit. “Oh. Right.”

It takes all of two minutes to get dressed - jeans, his decent sneakers, half-tucked in dress shirt, bow tie - but he makes an extra effort to mess up his hair. In his humble opinion, his sex hair is what really makes his outfit work.

“So how’s the spaghetti?” he asks as he comes out.

Monty gives him a thumbs up, and Octavia says “You have to teach me how to make this.”

“You look good,” Bellamy says, which is totally not what Finn asked, but he’ll accept it anyways.

Raven smacks Bellamy on the back of the head, probably harder than necessary. “Quit flirting and eat your spaghetti, Blake.”

“You’re looking extra sex-rumpled tonight, Finn,” Clarke says brightly.

“He’s a sexy, sexy man,” Monty agrees.

Finn claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. You, too.” He winks at Bellamy and ignores the way Clarke and Raven glare at him for it.

**  
**

 

 

From: Raven (7:05 PM)  
you want to bang him don’t you

To: Raven (7:07 PM)  
like a screen door in a hurricane

To: Raven (7:08 PM)  
but i’m not going to date ur ex without your permission

From: Raven (7:10 PM)  
i didnt even realize you were friends

To: Raven (7:11 PM)  
only thru octavia

From: Raven (7:14 PM)  
keep flirting, i like watching him get all blushy

To: Raven (7:14 PM)  
yes ma’am

 **  
**  


**notfinncollins**  
pre-performance spaghetti: it’s a tradition. @8avia @cgriffin @rockin_raven @noteasybeing_green

8avia, romaforreal, and 5 others like this

 **romaforreal** can’t wait to see you guys tonight!  
 **8avia** and @bellblake helped cook!

You are now following **bellblake**.  
 **bellblake** started following you.

**  
**

 

 

The performance is easier the second time. For one thing, they don’t show up nearly as early. Miller got them the same performance time, so they get to Grounders at 8:30. Bellamy volunteers to take all the instruments in his junker, and Clarke drives all of the people.

Well, actually, Bellamy volunteered to take the people, but Octavia vetoed it and told him that nobody needed to be inside his piece of shit car. Finn thought she was being harsh until he saw the car and decided that whether or not he and Bellamy were on good terms, he wasn’t getting inside that piece of shit.

By mutual agreement, Monty goes in first to talk to Miller and get them checked in. Also by mutual agreement, the rest of the band crowds around a window to watch them talk.

“Can’t we spy on them from inside?” Octavia complains while she’s tuning her guitar. “That way we’d have a shot in hell of hearing them.”

Raven shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to be obvious about it. This needs to happen on its own, without us interfering.”

“She says after sending her socially inept roommate to flirt with his hot friend,” Finn points out, setting his hi-hat cymbal on the sidewalk.

“With minimal interference, then. Meddling does not a relationship make.”

“Every single Disney Channel movie in existence says otherwise.”

“Right,” Bellamy says, handing Finn his snare drum. “Because that’s a good standard to use for judging appropriate social interaction.”

Raven smirks. “He’s got you there.”

Luckily, Monty arrives with Miller in tow just in time to spare Finn the admission of defeat. “The last group just finished, we can go in and sound check if we want,” Monty announces. He doesn’t have coffee with him, Finn notices in surprise. He’d expected Miller to give him one right away like last time. It seems to be his courting method.

“Yeah, I’m here to help carry heavy things and hold the door open.”

“Hi, Miller,” Octavia says brightly.

Miller glances at her. “Octavia! I was wondering where you were.”

“Well, you know me, I never miss a chance for some good music.” She smiles. “No offense, but I’ve heard more good music in the last month during rehearsals than I did during every Music Monday so far. Combined.”

“Yeah, I believe that.” He looks at Bellamy. “And you’ve got the same eyes as her, so I’m going to guess you’re the brother she talks about.”

Bellamy turns to Octavia. “What do you say about me?”

“Nothing bad,” Octavia answers, too innocent to be honest. It’s not technically a lie; every time she’d complained to Finn at work, it’d started along the lines of “I love my brother but he’s such an asshole sometimes.” That never seemed bad to him.

“Sure.” Bellamy gingerly picks up Finn’s snare in one hand and the hi-hat with the other. “Is it going to be obvious where these go?”

Monty picks up his keyboard and its stand. “I know how to set it up, sort of. Follow me.” Miller holds the door open for Monty. Bellamy follows him, and then Octavia and Raven.

Clarke looks at Finn. “What can I take in?”

“You can take the bass drum if you want.” He glances at Miller. “We can manage the rest, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Miller keeps the door open as Clarke carries the bass drum through. “Thanks for coming back, by the way. You make my Monday nights better.”

“Hey, thanks for having us, last time was great.” Finn hands his crash and ride cymbals to Miller. “And we’ve got two new songs, so you get even more variety.”

“You’re fantastic,” Miller says with feeling. “Every song you play is amazing.”

Finn picks up his tom-tom and heads inside. “Save that for after you actually hear the new stuff.”

“You have an electric guitar, you’re already the best band of the night.” Miller lets the door swing shut.

One great thing about playing the drums is that when you walk through a crowd of people with a part of a drum set, people make room for you. Finn appreciates that now more than ever, cutting out a path to the stage with his tom-tom held before him. He gets to the stage, where Monty is already arranging the pieces. “Where did you learn how to set up drums?”

“I played percussion in high school, and my friends all liked playing the drum set.” Monty steps back, letting Finn take over. “I prefer keyboards, but I tried once or twice.”

“And xylophones and all those are basically pianos, right?” Finn frowns. “Where’s my-”

“Bellamy went back out for your stool. We’ve got a minute.” Monty goes off to the side of the stage, and Finn follows him. Clarke is already there, talking to barista Dax.

“God, I’m so glad you guys are back,” Dax says as soon as he sees Finn. “The jazz band couldn’t make it, so the banjo girl played two sets.”

“Oh my god.” Finn shakes his head. “You poor soul.”

“Hey, she had her good moments!” Monty objects.

“When?”

“Her version of Call Me When You’re Sober was fantastic.”

Clarke stares. “Oh my god, how do you know that song? Did you have a scene phase?”

“Yes,” Monty says blandly. “Oh, look, everyone’s back.”

Finn turns around and sees Raven and Octavia carrying amps, followed by Bellamy with the stool for the drum set.

“That’s my cue,” Dax says. “Break a leg, guys.” He goes towards the stage and takes the mic, probably to introduce them.

Finn looks back at Clarke and Monty. “Okay, putting aside the fact that Monty probably read Death Note in middle school, how are we going to do kisses for luck?”

Clarke blinks. “Uh, with our lips?”

Finn shakes his head. “No, I mean, which one of us is kissing Bellamy? It can’t be Octavia or Raven, so it’s going to be one of us.”

“Not it,” Monty says quickly.

Clarke looks at Finn. “Rock paper scissors?”

“Nah, if you don’t want to, I will.” Like he’s making some huge sacrifice. Like he wouldn’t gladly make out with the man.

“You will what?” Octavia says, appearing behind him.

“Our good luck tradition.” Finn shrugs. “We kiss each other.”

Octavia frowns. “How is that lucky?”

“It gets your heart rate up,” Raven points out. She goes over to Monty, lays her hands on his shoulders and smacks a quick kiss on his lips. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Monty says, grinning.

“Did I miss something?” Bellamy says.

Octavia shrugs. “Apparently we’re kissing each other now.” Before Finn can stop her, she leans in, cups a hand on the back of his neck, and kisses him. Hard.

It’s a pretty damn good kiss.

Clarke coughs delicately, and Finn pulls back enough to notice Bellamy looking away. Right. Making out with a hot guy’s younger sister is maybe not a great idea.

Octavia smooths her hair back. “Well. Good luck.”

“Good luck,” Finn echoes, trying not to sound dazed. Coworker. This is his coworker.

“So,” Clarke says. “Looks like I’m the odd one out.”

Bellamy sighs. “You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’d be bad luck if I didn’t.” She turns to him. “Good luck… audience-ing.”

“Good luck singing.” He leans in, she leans up, and thus commences the most uncomfortable kiss that Finn has ever witnessed. It’s three seconds, which seems to be three seconds longer than it should be.

Clarke pulls away, looking fairly unimpressed. Finn’s not sure if that means Bellamy’s actually a bad kisser or if she’s still pissed about everything with Raven.

For his part, Bellamy shrugs. “You’re on,” he says, just as Dax yells “Give it up for The Sky People!”

That’s their cue. Finn jumps onto the stage and slides onto his stool, spinning it around. Raven shakes her head as she walks past him and picks up her bass.

“What’s up, everyone!” Clarke calls into the crowd, and gets a tiny round of applause. “Happy Music Monday. You’re not here to hear me talk, so let’s get to playing.” She nods at Finn, and he pulls his sticks out of his back pocket. Time to go.

Finn asked Raven, a handful of years ago, what she remembered about performing. She laughed at him. “Everything,” she told him. “I’m hyper-aware.” He’s exactly the opposite. He remembers in moments, in two-second flashes of awareness. His theory is muscle memory. They’ve played through it so many times that he doesn’t need to focus on it anymore. It feels like he starts Do I Wanna Know three seconds before it ends.

The entirety of Grounders bursts into applause as they finish. Finn sits back, drinking it in, grinning at Octavia. Her song, her applause.

Clarke leans in. “We’re so lucky we got a kickass new guitarist, because I would never have been able to play that and sing.” Laughter from the crowd; Octavia ducks her head. “Now we’re going to slow it down for about ten whole seconds.”

Monty positions his hands over the keys and makes eye contact with Clarke. They do their weird count-off voodoo, and they start perfectly together, Monty playing his chord as Clarke sings, “I’ve got those jet pack blues.”

Finn is content to sit back and listen to them, but he’s happier playing, and as soon as they hit the chorus, he plays. It’s just a variation on a rock beat, but something about him and Octavia coming in when nobody probably expected it gets the crowd cheering. In the middle of the song. He doesn’t mind. Rock ballads are God’s gift to musicians that like listening to slow songs and hate playing them. Finn is definitely one of those musicians.

The rest of the song is short anyways, and Finn loses himself in the beat and Clarke’s voice. It’s all too soon when she sings her last “Baby, come home,” and he dampens the echo of his cymbals. There’s even more applause this time.

“Goddamn,” Raven laughs, spreading her arms out. “You guys are a good crowd!”

“Nah, we’re just a good band,” Octavia answers.

“We’re going to be awesome rock stars,” Finn decides.

“Hear, hear,” Raven says as Monty starts Radioactive.

**  
**

 

 

 **theskypeople**  
Thanks to everyone who came out to see us tonight @grounderscoffee! In case you missed it, we’ve recorded some #arcticmonkeys for you. Be sure to follow us here + Twitter so you get all the updates on our performances and BTS photos!

notfinncollins, 8avia, and 39 others like this

 **itsvickiii** you guys are so good omg! miss you monty!  
 **romaforreal** someone give that bassist my number  
 **rockin_raven** @romaforreal heyyyy  
 **8avia** Thanks guys for being the best band!

**  
**

 

 

To: Raven (9:13 PM)  
who’s that guy you’re talking to?

From: Raven (9:14 PM)  
monty’s coworker. i’ll be ready to leave in a minute.

To: Raven (9:14 PM)  
he looks like a serial killer

From: Raven (9:15 PM)  
he really, really does

**  
**

 

 

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia  
can’t believe @bellblake is letting me set foot in a bar. #miraclesDOhappen

 **Bellamy Blake** @bellblake  
@8avia Only because you got carded immediately. And I’m here with you.

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia  
@bellblake killjoy. and you’re only here bc you want to get drunk enough to hit on people.

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia  
Speaking of getting drunk: @notfinncollins can I see one of your famous drunk debates?

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@8avia give it ten minutes and we’ll be arguing

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
someone please tell @haaaaaarper that the mythbusters would beat the ghostbusters in a fight

 **Harper Beauvais** @haaaaaarper  
@notfinncollins the Ghostbusters have ghosts, Finn. GHOSTS.

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@haaaaaarper the mythbusters have EXPLOSIONS. @cestmayavie back me up here

 **Maya Vie** @cestmayavie  
@notfinncollins @haaaaaarper Sorry, H. Finn’s right.

 **Harper Beauvais** @haaaaaarper  
@notfinncollins @cestmayavie Finn, how could you? We were on the same side re: lightsabers vs blasters!

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@haaaaaarper @cestmayavie but harper, this is SERIOUS

 **Harper Beauvais** @haaaaaarper  
@notfinncollins Fight me. Right now. In this bar.

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@haaaaaarper absolutely. just hang on a minute.

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@cgriffin @rockin_raven @8avia @bellblake one of you come defend my honor

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@notfinncollins Pool > your drunk debates.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@notfinncollins absolutely not

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia  
@notfinncollins but harper’s right

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@8avia TRAITOR

 **Bellamy Blake** @bellblake  
@notfinncollins @8avia O, cmon, Mythbusters would kick ass.

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@8avia @bellblake maya’s buying another round come and sit with us so we can fight this out

**  
**

 

 

 **therealjasperj**  
2/5 of @theskypeople + friends got thrown out of a bar for yelling about Mythbusters versus Ghostbusters. #teammythbusters #postperformancedestress @notfinncollins @cestmayavie @8avia @bellblake @haaaaaarper

cgriffin, noteasybeing_green, and 43 others like this

 **haaaaaarper** jasper no! Ghostbusters!  
 **notfinncollins** @haaaaaarper oh, you wish.  
 **noteasybeing_green** THAT’S what they were arguing about?  
 **cgriffin** when did we get a band instagram?  
 **notfinncollins** @cgriffin did i not tell you about that? we have twitter too.  
 **therealjasperj** @cgriffin and facebook!  
 **rockin_raven** @therealjasperj you are way too excited about having a facebook.

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 10**

**ARK Records College Competition**

About - Previous Winners - Competing soloists - Competing bands \- Schedules

 **A-Bomb**  
Atom Cobbett (lead vocals, lead guitar)  
Garrett Phillips (guitar)  
Tony Diggs (bass, vocals)  
Liam Vasquez (drums)

 **The Sky People**  
Clarke Griffin (lead vocals)  
Octavia Blake (guitar)  
Raven Reyes (bass, vocals)  
Monty Green (keyboard)  
Finn Collins (drums)

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 11**

Abby Griffin does not like Finn.

Given that she’s protective and traditional, and her daughter started dating two people at once, he sees where she’s coming from. It drives Clarke up a wall, especially because Abby and Raven get along. Finn doesn’t mind. Parents don’t normally like him. It’s not a big thing.

He actually respects Abby, more than he’d admit to either her or Clarke. Anyone bold enough to go into politics possesses a certain degree of confidence that he admires. Abby is sharp and caring and wants nothing but the best for Clarke. Finn has never understood that - why complain about having a parent that gives a damn? - but he also knows he’s on the outside of that particular issue, and Clarke has her mind made up.

But that’s all far away from the real point, which is: Abby doesn’t like Finn. He doesn’t resent her for it or anything. It’s just bad luck, really, that he happens to open the door to leave the apartment and go to work right as Abby storms up to it.

“Abby!” he says in surprise. Behind him, he can hear Clarke take in a sharp breath. “Clarke didn’t mention that you were coming to visit.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Abby folds her arms, and Finn does his best not to be cowed. “But then I found out that she’s in a rock band, and that was worth making the drive for.”

“Wait, what?” Clarke appears next to Finn, looking pale. “Where did you hear that?”

“The competition you entered posted your name on the website.” She glares slightly at Finn. “And yours, too. Drums?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got rhythm,” he says lightly. He brushes the back of his hand against Clarke’s, hoping it’s helpful. They’d been so close to avoiding this. “Since you’re here, why don’t you sit down, I can make you something to eat, we-”

“I’m not planning on staying for long. I just need to talk to Clarke.”

“Mom,” Clarke starts, voice already thick with something Finn doesn’t care to dissect.

“A rock band, Clarke?”

“I didn’t-” Clarke turns to Finn abruptly. “You should go to work.”

Finn frowns. “Uh, no.”

“You were going anyways.”

“Yeah, but.” Is there a good way to say “I want to make sure you and your mom don’t start World War Three” when said mom is standing right in front of you? “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Clarke offers a tight smile. “It’ll be fine. See you in a few hours.”

Finn does his best not to look suspicious. “You’re sure.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Finn, I’m sure! Go!”

“All right, fine.” He kisses her on the cheek. She’s going to need a little extra love to get through this. “It was nice seeing you, Abby.”

Abby moves to the side so Finn can get through the doorway. He practically sprints to the elevator, but he can still hear the door snap shut, sharp and dangerous.

**  
**

 

 

To: Raven (3:42 PM)  
sos sos

From: Raven (3:46 PM)  
????

To: Raven (3:47 PM)  
college comp posted our names on the site

To: Raven (3:47 PM)  
abby showed up at our door

From: Raven (3:48 PM)  
fuck.

**  
**

 

 

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.” Octavia sets her phone on the counter and frowns. “How did she find out? And why does it matter?”

“I guess ARK posted a list of everyone performing, and Clarke’s name ended up there.” Finn shrugs. “Her mom has a super intense PR guy who spends way too much time making sure her and Clarke’s names aren’t anywhere he doesn’t want them to be.”

“What does her mom do?”

“She’s a state senator in New York.”

Octavia whistles. “No wonder Clarke’s used to the high life. So why is Mama Griffin so against the band?”

“I’m not really sure,” Finn admits. “She hasn’t made the drive down to the Mount since their last huge fight.”

“Is it a long drive?”

“It’s eight hours or something.”

“What was the last time about?”

“Clarke told her she was majoring in pre-med. It took a semester and a half for Abby to find out that she wasn’t. She didn’t take that well.” That’s an understatement; Abby and Clarke fought for two hours about whether or not Clarke could or should change. Finn got the impression that Abby had been more hurt that Clarke had kept her major a secret than that she’d chosen it to begin with.

“So what’s this time about?”

“Fuck if I know.” Finn glances at his phone and sighs. His shift is barely half over.

“Well, if you had to guess?” Octavia prompts.

Finn takes a second to chew that over. “You’ve got to understand, Abby has a really specific idea of what a good future is. She wants the best for Clarke, but her version of the best is really narrow. It took a lot of haggling to get her to accept the art major, and the tattoo job.”

Octavia nods slowly. “So starting a band probably doesn’t fit into that version, either.”

“That’s my theory, yeah. Not to mention that Abby’s probably upset that Clarke didn’t just tell her to begin with.”

“Yeah, why didn’t she?”

“Not a clue. Clarke thought it wouldn’t end well, and she knows her mom better than I do.” He glances at his phone again. He’s completely unsurprised and frustrated to discover that it’s only two minutes later than the last time he checked. “And she’s not texting me.”

“Well, how much does she normally text you during work?”

“Whenever she thinks of something important. But this-” Finn sighs. Clarke doesn’t handle fighting with Abby well. She shuts down. How can he explain the horrible ache he felt when he walked into her dorm room after their last fight and saw her curled up unmoving on her bed? “This is different. I need to make sure she’s alive.”

“Okay.” Octavia picks her phone up. “Go.”

Finn blinks. “What?”

“Go home. I’ll call someone in. Roma owes me a favor or two, Bellamy knows where most of the books go, I can get Dax if we really need it.” She waves a hand at him. “This is more important than you being here. Get out. Tell Clarke I say hi.”

For a few seconds, he can’t move. He’s paralyzed with the sudden freedom. Then his brain turns back on and he thinks Clarke and he barely remembers to gasp “Thank you, oh my god” before he grabs his bag and sprints out of the library.

**  
**

 

 

To: Clarke (6:41 PM)  
got off early today, you need dinner?

To: Clarke (6:44 PM)  
i’m going to get indian

To: Clarke (6:53 PM)  
hit literally any button so i know you’re still alive?

From: Clarke (6:55 PM)  
z

To: Clarke (7:02 PM)  
be home soon.

**  
**

 

 

Finn’s not surprised to find Clarke curled up on the couch when he gets home. Sad, sure, but not surprised. He sets the takeout bag on the coffee table and rests a hand on her ankle. “How’re you doing?”

“I should’ve told her,” Clarke says, voice scratchy. He can’t tell if it’s scream-scratchy or sob-scratchy. Probably both. “This all would’ve been okay if I’d just told her.”

“Maybe,” he allows. “Or maybe she would’ve tried to shut you down and you’d be bitter. Either way, we’ve got to play the hand we’ve been dealt.”

“She tried to tell me I should quit.”

“We expected that, remember?”

“And I told her she could fuck off, I’m twenty-one and I don’t need her permission to live my life.”

“You don’t.”

“She’s cutting me off.” Clarke twitches her foot, and Finn lifts his hand. “All I have left are my savings and the money my dad left me. No more bottomless money.”

“None of us need your bottomless money.”

“It’s not that.”

He waits patiently, standing by the edge of the couch, until she turns her head to look at him. Her eyes are tear-red and puffy. “My mom said she’d always be there for me. I could never do anything that’d make her turn her back on me. And now she’s turning her back on me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Finn says, low and fierce.

“It doesn’t feel that way.” She turns her face back so it’s buried in her arms, and Finn bites back a sigh. This is worse than he’d expected. He’d call Raven, but she’s working, and he can’t pull her out of her job. It looks like he has to make a call he never wanted to make.

“I’m going to go call someone. Eat some naan or something, okay?”

“Mmm.”

It’s as much of a response as Finn is likely to get right now, so he settles for it as he leaves the apartment and goes to the hallway. He really hopes he still has the right number.

Clarke met Lexa at some queer students’ meeting on campus about a year ago. They’ve been dating on and off ever since the thrilling threesome went their separate ways, and they get on like a house on fire. Unfortunately, due to a series of complicated minor offenses, Lexa hates Finn. Viciously. But she cares about Clarke, and that’s what he’s banking on when he calls her.

Lexa picks up after the second ring. “Finn?”

No point in wasting time. “Clarke’s mom drove here from Buffalo to talk to her about the band and it evolved into a minor war. She’s not taking it well. She needs to be around people who care about her.”

“I understand.” There are rustling noises, probably Lexa getting her things. “Do you still live in the same apartment?”

“Yes. And I already got takeout. You’re welcome to mine, by the way, I can scavenge food from the fridge.”

A door opens and closes; Finn tries to remember where Lexa lives. The dorms, right? He thinks it’s the dorms. “Is it just you and her?”

“Yeah. I think her mom’s already driving back.” He can hear footsteps, hurried and heavy. Wherever Lexa is, she’s moving fast. “Lexa. Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” she snaps. “I’m doing this for Clarke.”

“I know. Thank you for that.”

Lexa doesn’t reply to that. If it weren’t for the footsteps he’d think the call dropped. At last, just when Finn thinks his human emotions short-circuited her automaton brain, she says, “I’ll be there within ten minutes.” The line goes quiet, and Finn sighs in relief. Ten minutes. That’s manageable.

He goes back into the apartment. "Clarke?"

Clarke hasn't moved, which isn't surprising, but it still makes Finn's stomach twist. She’s spirit and spice and watching that all vanish always ends with him wanting to punch something. "Just go hang out with Raven or something."

"Not a chance in hell," Finn says cheerfully. "I got chicken tandoori, and you skipped lunch, and you need people right now. Budge up, we have Indian food and we can get drunk on shitty beer."

"I have my early class tomorrow."

"Fine, we'll stay sober, but I'm not leaving. I want couch space."

Clarke sighs dramatically and swings her feet down to the floor, freeing up a single cushion’s worth of couch space. "You're the worst. And we're watching Bravo."

"What?" Finn crashes onto the couch. "Oh my god, why?"

"Because I want to feel better about how fucked up our lives are. Give me the naan."

Finn passes her the takeout bag with a frown. "How are our lives fucked up?"

Clarke's eyes flicker to him. "Other than the part where I want to go catatonic after fighting with my mom? You realize Bellamy was making eyes at you all night on Monday, right?"

Finn feels his skin heat up, but he manages not to duck down. "And?"

"And you seem really okay with me pointing that out."

"What's your point?"

Clarke shakes her head. "You don't think it's even a little fucked up that your ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend slash coworker's brother is flirting with you?"

"I-" Shit, put like that, it’s pretty fucked up, isn't it. "I think I liked you better when you weren't criticizing my choices."

Clarke looks away, and Finn wants to kick himself. He should know better than to say anything bad to her right now. He reaches for the remote and puts the TV on Bravo, hoping it'll be a decent peace offering. Clarke seems content enough to settle in and watch rich Beverly Hills women fight. He gets the distinct feeling that she’s less okay than she's pretending to be, but that's fixable. In fact, where did his fix go? She said ten minutes-

There's a knock on the door, and Finn springs to his feet before Clarke can move. "I got it!"

Clarke blinks. “What?”

Finn opens the door, and it’s Lexa, of course it is. “Finn,” she says coolly.

“Good to see you, too.” He moves out of the doorway, and Lexa goes to Clarke immediately. Silently, he thanks whatever god is up there that Lexa bothered picking up the phone at all.

“Lexa?” Clarke says disbelievingly. “What-”

“Finn called me.” She sits carefully on the couch, stealing Finn’s spot in the process. “He said you needed to be around people right now.”

“I.” Clarke looks back at Finn. “Really?”

Finn shrugs. “All I ask is that if you two want to make out on the couch, let me know so I have enough time to hide out in my room.”

“We’ll do our best,” Lexa answers.

“No, not your best, you will do it. And no couch sex, I don’t want to have to buy a new couch.” Finn sits on the armchair, making a point of leaning as far away from the couch as he can. “Other than that, you guys can ignore me as much as you want. I’ll just watch Lisa Vanderpump talk about… whatever it is Lisa Vanderpump talks about.”

“Thank you, Finn,” Clarke says, voice small.

He offers back a smile. “Anytime, princess.”

**  
**

 

 

 **notfinncollins**  
they naturally fell asleep like this. #alltangledup @cgriffin @its_lexa

rockin_raven, haaaaaarper, and 6 others like this

 **its_lexa** how did you get my username?  
 **notfinncollins** @its_lexa you’ve been dating my roommate for a year, how could i NOT have your username?

**  
**

 

 

 **Clarke Griffin**  
I have the best roommate ever. -- feeling grateful with **Finn Collins**

 **You** and 8 others like this.

 **Finn Collins** nah, my roommate’s better.  
 **Clarke Griffin** Nerd.

**  
**

 

 

**MARCH 12**

Finn wakes up not to his alarm, or the sounds of Clarke and Lexa having sex, but to Rockin’ Robin by The Jackson Five. It takes him a minute to place the song, and he’s not sure why it would be playing. Did Clarke leave the radio on? No, it’s coming from his phone. Why would his phone-

Raven’s ringtone. Right. He never really hears it - Raven’s doesn’t talk when she could text - but she insisted that he use that as her ringtone. It makes sense that he’s hearing it. It doesn’t make sense that she’s calling.

He reaches for his phone and takes the call, only resisting the urge to burrow back into bed because it’s Raven. “The Griffin crisis was averted, why are you calling at 8:30 in the morning?”

“Your alarm is in half an hour, don’t even try with me.”

Finn sits bolt upright. There’s an edge to her voice that he hasn’t heard in a long time. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, for one, Monty’s not answering his phone.”

“...okay?”

Raven sighs. “Look, it’s probably nothing, but he was supposed to go do something with Jasper yesterday, and he texted saying he was going to be home late, and now he’s not answering at all.”

“Maybe his phone died?”

“The messages are all getting marked as read. I’ve tried Facebook, Finn. Facebook.”

Finn frowns. “So he’s ignoring you?”

“Me and everyone else who tried.”

“Who would that be?”

“...Clarke.”

“Clarke?” That’s right, she has her morning class today, but that doesn’t make this choice any better. “You told Clarke before you called me? Did she call the cops?”

“No, but she’s calling in sick to work. I barely convinced her to go to class.”

“Shit.” Finn rubs a hand down his face. “All right, I can afford to miss a day of classes, I’ll start looking. Have you asked Octavia if she’s coming?”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing. She quit.”

Well, fuck. “What do you mean, she quit?”

“I mean last night she texted me out of nowhere saying she was out of the band.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Yeah? You try talking to her, see how it goes.”

Finn shakes his head. “Great. So we avoided World War Griffin, mostly, but now-”

“Mostly?” Raven repeats dangerously. “What do you mean, mostly?”

Finn winces. “Clarke’s cut off from her mom and I had to call Lexa over to get her to eat.”

“You had to-” Raven cuts off. There are some quiet noises from her end, probably from her punching the couch or something. “Okay, fine, great. We can deal with that after we find my missing roommate. Deal?”

“Deal. You check his job, Clarke checks on campus, I start calling up everyone he knows to figure out where he is.”

“Yeah.” Raven sighs, and Finn wishes he could reach through the phone and put his arm around her. “Jesus, Finn, when did everything go to shit?”

“We’ll get it back under control.”

“You sure?”

“Damn straight I’m sure.”

He can almost picture her smiling at that, strained and humorless, but still trying. “There’s nothing straight about you.”

“True, but we’ll get this fixed. Let’s go to work.”

“Let’s go,” Raven echoes softly. Finn hangs up his phone and stares at it. It’s easy to have a plan for Raven’s sake, but now he has to find a missing person. Where the fuck does he even start?

**  
**

 

 

To: Octavia (8:36 AM)  
seriously?

From: Octavia (8:38 AM)  
Yes. Sorry.

To: Octavia (8:39 AM)  
u couldve at least told me yourself

**  
**

 

 

To: Monty (8:41 AM)  
can u just reply so we know you’re not dead in a ditch

To: Monty (8:42 AM)  
like my newest insta post to prove you’re alive

**  
**

 

 

Jasper picks up the phone on the second ring. “Monty?”

“Not quite.” Finn frowns. This must be worse than he thought. “Right band, wrong member.”

Jasper groans in frustration. “He’s not picking up, I’ve been calling him since last night.”

“Yeah, you and Raven both.”

“Well, we got-” Jasper cuts himself off. “What do you mean, Raven’s calling him? Isn’t he home?”

Ah, shit. Finn closes his eyes. “We were hoping he was with you.”

“Fuck,” Jasper explodes. “Shit, fuck, fuck, we got into a fight last night and he left and I thought he was going home and he’s not home.”

“Raven says her messages are getting marked read, so at least we know he’s alive.”

“Or someone kidnapped him, took his phone, and doesn’t want us to know he’s dead yet!”

Finn makes a mental note to tell Monty how much he admires him for having the patience to deal with this on a regular basis. “Jasper. Breathe.”

“It wasn’t even a fight worth having.” There’s a shuffling noise; Finn wonders if he’s pacing. “It started about something totally pointless and ended with me flipping out because I’m a total fucking asshole.”

“No, you’re not,” Finn hears faintly from the other side. “Here, gimme-” more shuffling, and then: “Hey, Finn, it’s Maya.”

“Hi, Maya.” His favorite drinking buddy. Now this is something he can work with. “Have you heard anything from Monty?”

She sighs. “No, and it’s driving us up a wall. But he’ll come back when he’s ready. I hope.”

“He will,” Finn assures her. “I’ll keep looking, don’t worry about it.”

“You think you can find him?”

“Yeah, he probably doesn’t really want to be around anyone who knows him well, you know what I mean?”

“Absolutely.” Maya shifts and murmurs something he doesn’t catch, probably to Jasper. “Well, keep us posted, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll…” Finn trails off. Nobody who knows him well. He wouldn’t want to be around anyone in the band. Jasper’s out, obviously, and Maya by extension. He and Miller make heart-eyes at each other often enough that there’s no way he’d go there. So that leaves work, which Raven has covered. And. “Actually, can you do me a favor and text me Harper’s address? But be low-key about it, we don’t need Jasper working himself up even more.”

“That we don’t. I’ll send it over. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.” Assuming he’s right. God, he really hopes he’s right.

**  
**

 

 

Harper opens her door immediately after Finn knocks. It takes half a second for her to go from warm and curious to cool and closed-off. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t want to drag him out,” Finn says. “I just want to know that he’s alive.”

Harper crosses her arms. “Give me one good reason.”

“Because Raven and I fight all the time, and I know how it feels to want to be around anyone other than your best friend.” He pauses, hoping he hasn’t mortally offended Harper or anything by saying she’s not Monty’s best friend. “Also, I’ll make breakfast if you let me in.”

Harper searches his face before looking off to the side. “Do I let him in?”

Finn holds his breath, hoping for any sign of life, even just a rejection. After a few seconds, Monty says, “I really want breakfast.”

The tension seeps out of Harper’s shoulders. “Yeah, me too.” She steps back from the door and sweeps an arm towards the kitchenette. “Make whatever your heart desires, especially if that includes eggs.”

“Awesome. Thank you.” Finn goes straight for the fridge. It’s small, like the rest of the apartment. It’s the most studio-ish studio that Finn has ever been in - the kitchen is one corner, the bed with its blue bedspread and dejected keyboard player is in the opposite corner, and almost nothing is in between. “Monty, eggs?”

“Sure. H, do you have bacon?”

“I think so. Finn?”

“On it.” He opens a random cupboard, takes out the salt and pepper, and shuts it again. “You got a frying pan?”

“Under the sink.”

Finn opens the cupboard under the sink. There’s not only a frying pan but a decent-sized skillet. “Bacon and cheese omelets?”

“You eat too well to be an actual college student.”

Finn looks over his shoulder to grin at Harper, now sitting on the bed next to Monty. “Nah, I just went through my shitty ramen-and-cereal phase when I was fourteen. I’m a few years ahead of everyone in terms of cooking.”

“Who taught Raven to make a grilled cheese?” Monty says suddenly.

Finn whips around so fast he cracks his back. “She made you her grilled cheese?” At Monty’s nod, he grins. “Isn’t it the most bomb-ass grilled cheese you’ve ever had?”

“Bomb-ass grilled cheese,” Harper repeats skeptically.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. She won’t tell me what’s in it, but she figured it out on her own.” Finn sets the frying pan on Harper’s stove. “I go to her house one day when we’re, like, twelve, and she goes ‘Try this’ and shoves it in my mouth. And it was absolutely amazing.”

He’s always wondered if her mother gave her the recipe, but that’s none of his business, so he doesn’t mention that. Instead, he goes over to the fridge and pulls out the bacon. “Can I use all of this?”

“Go ahead. And if you want cheese for the eggs I have some in there.”

“Kickass.” He drops all the bacon in the frying pan and turns the burner on before going back to the fridge for eggs. “But yeah, she’s been making the same grilled cheese for about ten years and it’s always ridiculously good, and she never tells me what’s in it.”

“Do you ask?”

“Yeah, I’ve asked. She always says things like she spits in it, or adds three pounds of butter.” Finn puts the eggs on the counter and does some mental math. There’s three of them, so four eggs will be enough with cheese and bacon. He finds a bowl and starts cracking. “I’ve accepted that she won’t tell me.”

“Is it really that good?”

“Harper. I have had many grilled cheeses. Once I went to a gourmet restaurant and ordered a grilled cheese. Raven’s was still better.” That’s actually completely untrue, but they don’t need to know that. Besides, he’s pretty sure Raven’s is better than gourmet. “Where are your forks?”

“That drawer to your right.”

“Thanks.” He adds some salt and pepper and starts beating the eggs. “I mean, it might be the nostalgia thing, too, but it’s definitely really good grilled cheese.”

“You guys should invite me over sometime,” Harper murmurs. Finn almost reminds her that he doesn’t live with Raven anymore when he realizes she knows that. When he glances up for a half-second, he sees her looking at sadly at Monty. Yep, this is something he’s better off not getting in the middle of.

“Harper,” Monty sighs, but she cuts him off.

“I’m serious! I like being around you guys. And you.” Harper nudges him gently. “It’d be nice if you talked to me on days other than Tuesdays, performances, and when you’re in a bad mood.”

“You talk to me. You text me almost every day.”

“Yeah, and you answer about a quarter of the time. I’m not asking you to talk to me every minute, but remember that there are people who aren’t Jasper and Raven who’d talk to you if you asked.”

Monty doesn’t say anything. By the time he speaks again, the bacon is chopped and there’s butter melted in the skillet. “I forget that, sometimes. Growing up, I really only had Jasper.”

Finn nods in understanding. He moves a third of the bacon to the skillet and starts pouring eggs in as he waits for more from Monty.

“Did you have anyone like that?” he murmurs. “Who was your everything.”

“Not really,” Harper admits. “I had a lot of friends, never really a best friend.”

“I did,” Finn volunteers, tilting the pan to get the eggs all around the bacon. “Raven and I know each other in every way possible. Including the biblical sense.”

“Did you really need to tell us that?”

“Hey, if we’re talking about our friends…” He turns around to shrug at Harper, who wrinkles her nose. “I’ve known Raven as long as I can remember. It felt like the dating was only natural, like we were already so close we might as well just get closer.”

Monty’s expression shutters off, and Finn wonders what he said wrong before Harper jumps in. “Did you feel closer?”

“For a while. And then we didn’t. We were so busy trying to be a couple that we forgot how to be Finn and Raven.” He pauses, something like remorse heavy in his ribs. “Or, well, I did. Clarke was the balancing agent for a little while. We were the three best datefriends that anyone could have.”

“Raven said the band started because you guys all slept together.” Monty leans forward. “I thought she was joking.”

“No, that sounds about right.” Finn turns back to the eggs and sprinkles some cheese on top. “We didn’t realize that was where we were going, at first. It was almost a full year before we actually got to the romantic part. We got the apartment together and then one day we just… collided.”

He grins at the skillet. “It was a bumpy start. You ever dated two people at once?” He glances over his shoulder to see Monty and Harper shaking their heads. “It’s different. Not bad or anything. They were both fantastic. I like to think I was for a little while, too. You got plates, Harper?”

“Yeah. Here, let me help.” There's a shuffling sound, then footsteps, and then Harper appears next to Finn, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out paper plates to hand to him. "Thank you for helping him," she whispers, touching his elbow before setting them on the counter.

"Thank you too," he answers. It’s always good to know that his people have other people. "Who wants the first omelet?"

"Monty gets dibs," Harper says, picking up the plate and grabbing a fork before going back over. "Eat up, skinnybones."

"I'm not that skinny," Monty protests, but Finn assumes he starts eating anyways. He adds more bacon and eggs to the pan. It's quiet for a moment, nothing but the quiet sizzles of cooking breakfast before Monty says abruptly, "Do you and Raven fight?"

"I don't think we've ever had a conversation without her insulting me."

"That's not what I mean."

Finn sighs. He doesn't like thinking about those times. It’s supposed to be him and her against the world, not against each other. "It never feels right," he admits softly. "Like the world tilted five degrees to the left and you don't know how to make it go back to normal. Right?"

"Right," Monty admits reluctantly. "But-"

"The worst fight we ever had was a couple years ago, right after we moved here." Finn pokes a fork into the eggs. "It was some pointless thing about how I made plans without telling her and fucked up some surprise she had planned, and it went nuclear. We spent half an hour screaming at each other in the middle of the dorms. It was... it was bad."

"What did you do?"

"God a hotel room so she couldn't find me, shut my phone off, and stayed for the night. And she knew me well enough to be okay with that. I woke up in the morning and I had just one text from her saying that I should call her when I was ready to act like an adult. Except..."

"Except?" Harper prompts.

He snorts and drops the cheese on the eggs. "Except it turns out that Clarke went looking for me, and when she couldn't find me, she asked Raven. And when she found out Raven couldn't find me, she called the cops."

"Bullshit," Monty says instantly.

"Nope, swear to God." Finn folds the eggs in half. "She didn't know how to handle it. She panics when the people close to her aren't in reach."

"Do you?" Harper asks.

That gives Finn pause. "I don't know," he says thoughtfully. "I've never stopped to think about it. I know Raven trusts her people not to fuck up. Clarke panics. I’m probably… closer to Clarke, but more low-key about it. I’m not about to knock anyone’s door down.”

"Well, that's a relief," Harper deadpans.

Finn slides the second omelet out of the skillet and onto the next plate on the stack. "Come and get your eggs."

"Nah, I'll wait for you to bring them over."

"What, seriously?" Finn turns and she shrugs. "Whatever you say." He adds the last of the bacon and eggs to the skillet. "So let me guess: Jasper is a Clarke type."

"Oh, yeah," Monty snorts. "He's protective."

"That's not a bad thing."

“Of course not. I just don’t want it all the time. You wouldn’t, either.”

“Maybe,” Finn allows. “I’ve never had anyone to be protective of me, other than Raven.”

“Until now,” Harper says, half a question.

Finn smiles as he adds the cheese to his omelet. “Yeah. Until now.” His phone starts buzzing insistently. “Shit, someone’s calling me. Is it cool if I answer?”

“Don’t say where I am,” Monty says.

“Not a problem.” He doesn’t bother looking at who’s calling before he answers. Whoever it is, they’re probably calling to ask about Monty. “Hey, not right now, ten more minutes and you can call back, okay?”

He folds the eggs in half and presses down on the omelet with the spatula. There’s no answer, and he frowns. He can hear noise in the background - people yelling, maybe some cars - but nothing that would indicate where his caller is. Which reminds him - who’s calling? He takes a glance at his screen and his frown deepens. “Octavia?”

More noise, although this is much clearer. It’s sniffling. Like she’s crying. Octavia never cries, and there’s a sharp twist of worry in Finn’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“Finn,” Octavia rasps, and Finn’s stomach drops to his shoes. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. “You need to get to the hospital.”

“What?” He picks up the frying pan, but it’s mechanical, more because he knows he’s supposed to be making eggs than because he actually cares. “What happened?”

“There was an accident.” Silence, the sound of her swallowing, and then. “It’s Raven.”

Finn hears more than feels the frying pan slip out of his hand and crash onto the ground. There’s nothing but the ringing in his ears, his heart banging inside his chest, the overwhelming need to be where Raven is. Hospital. Accident. Something is wrong. Raven.

“Fuck,” he says, and sprints for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octavia auditions with [Renegade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOQ4pkUAFbA) by Styx. The Sky People's setlist at Grounders is [Do I Wanna Know](http://my-name-is-blurry--face.tumblr.com/post/86913157162/alright-so-i-saw-a-post-on-here-and-it-was-this) by The Arctic Monkeys sped to walking speed, [Jet Pack Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtgiP95ikIE) by Fall Out Boy, and [Radioactive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6qFCqOy3HU) by The Macy Kate Band.


	3. Raven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious content warnings for a car accident and injury/recovery. And alcohol.

 

**MARCH 12**

 

To: Monty (8:47 AM)  
just tell me whether or not you’re alive

To: Monty (8:48 AM  
that’s all i’m asking

To: Monty (8:51 AM)  
don’t make me limp all around town looking for you

To: Monty (8:55 AM)  
because i will if i have to

To: Monty (9:02 AM)  
fine i have other sources of info

 

 

To: Murphy (9:03 AM)  
are you working rn??

From: Murphy (9:06 AM)  
nope. y?

To: Murphy (9:07 AM)  
damn it

To: Murphy (9:09 AM)  
m went out last night & now he’s not answering his phone

To: Murphy (9:10 AM)  
was hoping you could tell me if he was there

From: Murphy (9:13 AM)  
shit

From: Murphy (9:13 AM)  
u need help looking?

To: Murphy (9:15 AM)  
no thx i already have backup

To: Murphy (9:17 AM)  
c’s on campus, f’s calling friends

From: Murphy (9:21 AM)  
where r u?

To: Murphy (9:23 AM)  
omw to tekfix

From: Murphy (9:27 AM)  
hang tight ill be there to help in a few

 

 

“Hey,” Murphy huffs, jogging to catch up to Raven. “Any luck?”

“I told you I didn’t need help,” Raven snaps, continuing doggedly along even though her leg is burning. She’s beginning to think that she fractured it, there’s no other reason it would hurt this much.

“Yeah, but I’ve got nothing better to do, and I like Monty.”

“Finn and Clarke are already looking.”

“You realize you could’ve just called the store and asked if Monty’s there, right?”

“Yeah, I figured that out.” Raven raises her eyebrows. “Did you not notice that we’re walking away from where you work?”

Murphy glances at the buildings around him. “Okay, good point. He’s not there?”

“No, of course not, that’s why we’re going to Grounders.”

“Does he go to Grounders a lot?”

“No, but Miller’s there sometimes, and it’s worth a shot.” Shit, the two blocks to Grounders are going to be a fucking marathon. It’s getting harder to pretend she’s not limping, but she’s not letting the single creepiest dude she’s ever met help her walk.

“Couldn’t you just call Miller?”

“I could, but then I wouldn’t get coffee, and I really need it.”

“Yeah, you’re walking pretty slowly.”

Damn it. Raven grits her teeth. “I tripped down the stairs earlier today. Landed wrong. My leg hurts like a motherfucker.” It’s only partly true, but she gets the feeling that he won’t react well if she tells him it was almost two weeks ago.

Murphy whistles. “Today’s just not your day, is it?”

“Thanks for reminding me. Why are you here?”

“Because Monty’s my friend too?”

“Oh, please.” Raven rolls her eyes. “You don’t have friends, just people who tolerate you.”

“Isn’t that what friends are?”

“Friends are people who go out of their way to tolerate you. I’m pretty sure Monty just tolerates you at work.”

“But here you are, tolerating me outside of work.” Murphy grins smugly and god, Raven really wants to knock it off his face. “Does that make us friends?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Aw, come on.”

“I said no.” Even if having someone to talk to is making this more bearable. Even if it’s surprisingly nice of creepy Murphy to come help her. Even if, god help her, she’s enjoying this. They are not friends. She refuses.

“Admit it!” Murphy bumps into her shoulder, and he probably means well, but it’s exactly the wrong moment because Raven is mid-step. She stumbles and her entire body weight lands on her bad leg and a supernova explodes in the back of her skull.

She yelps quietly and hisses. “Fuck, fuck-”

Murphy catches her arm. “Shit, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Raven lies immediately. She’s going to say she’s perfectly fine until she can’t walk anymore, and she can still walk. Probably. Just in case, she finds herself leaning into Murphy, and the screaming pain in her leg lessens to a dull roar.

“You sure?” Murphy looks actually, legitimately worried. It’s a strange look for him. “You don’t need to go all the way to Grounders. I can go ahead and check without you.”

Raven barks out a laugh. “You don’t know me that well yet, so I’ll let that slide. You can be my human walking stick, but you’re not going without me. Here, move to my other side.”

Murphy obeys immediately, going to Raven’s left and offering his arm. She latches on immediately, trying not to show how grateful she is. At least it’s only Murphy, not someone who will judge her for needing help. She starts walking, slower than before but probably steadier.

“You’ve never used crutches before, have you?” Murphy says drily.

“I used Finn as a crutch once.” She’d dropped a wrench on her foot and needed help getting to the first aid kit across the room so she could find an Ace bandage. Finn had been the closest available walking aid. Her foot was fucked up for weeks. “But no, not a real crutch. Mostly, if I get hurt, it’s my hands.”

“Monty said you’re a mechanic, right?”

“Yep.” She pops the p. “Best job in the world.”

“Better than mine, for sure.”

“You don’t like TekFix? Other than the name, what’s not to like?”

“I’m not good with technology. Fucking awful, actually.”

“Then why did you get a job at an electronics store?” Monty at least got the job because he’s good with technology, but without that, Raven can’t imagine anyone wanting to work there. The store can’t fix appliances the way Monty can, and plenty of other stores are hiring.

“I can work a cash register.”

“They didn’t think your face would scare off customers?”

“That’s why I work lots of shifts with normal-looking people. And also Monty.”

“On his behalf, fuck you.”

Murphy chuckles. “Trust me, he says that enough on his own.”

“That’s my boy.” Raven smiles fondly. Monty was a smartass before she got her hands on him, but now she likes to think he’s smartass-ier than ever. She’ll gladly take credit for that.

“Where did he go last night, anyways?”

“Movie night with Jasper.” He was excited, practically bubbling over at the thought of being alone with Jasper for the first time in nearly two months. “He told me he might stay the night, but he said he’d let me know if he did. I went to sleep early, I thought I’d wake up with either a roommate there or a text from him. Instead I got a dozen missed calls from Jasper and no damn clue what happened to Monty.”

“You know he’s fine, right?”

“I know.” She hopes. “He’s tough.”

“Well, we’re only half a block away from Grounders.”

Raven blinks. She hadn’t even noticed, but Grounders is on the corner across from them. “Damn.”

“It’s like they say, right?” Murphy glances at her, his grin particularly shit-eating. “Time flies when you’re with your friends.”

She digs her elbow into his ribs, letting go of his arm in the process. “Go play in traffic.”

“Ouch.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Harsh.”

Raven would offer some cutting response if she could think of one, but she’s too busy testing her leg. Every step is exhausting, but she has to get back into the rhythm of walking evenly. If Monty sees her limping, he’s going to flip out on her for not taking care of herself.

“You’re a good walking stick,” she says. It’s easier than thanking him. She’s still kind of pissed that he’s there to begin with, she doesn’t owe him gratitude.

"Thanks," he says drily. They make their way across the street without talking. Raven is glad for it. She's not sure what'd be worse, finding Monty here and knowing he's ignoring her when they're so close or not finding him there and running out of ideas.

Either way, she figures she's about to find out, so she lets Murphy hold the door open and walks into Grounders as steadily as she can.

"Raven?"

It's not Monty, she can tell that before she turns around, but she still recognizes the voice. She has to resist the urge to cross her arms as she sees Octavia.

"He's not here," Murphy says quietly. "Neither is Miller."

"Yeah, I know." Raven pulls at the base of her ponytail, trying not to let her frustration fully show. She’d really hoped he’d be here, however much of a long shot it was. "We'll go somewhere else."

"You still want coffee?"

"In a minute." She glances at Octavia, who's standing defensively, clutching the strap to her bag in one hand and her coffee in the other. "Actually, can you get it? Something hot, with a shit-ton of caffeine. I need to talk to Octavia."

"Yeah, sure." Murphy touches her elbow as he passes her to go to the counter, and she frowns. She's not sure what to make of that casual affection. That's not what she signed up for.

"Who are you looking for?" Octavia asks cautiously, looking ready to make a break for it.

"Monty. He's not answering his phone." Raven pauses. Are Monty and Octavia close? She can't remember them being closer than he is with Finn and Clarke, but it's worth a shot. "Have you heard anything from him?"

Octavia shakes her head. "Sorry. I'd let you know if I did."

Raven snorts. "Yeah, sure." Just like she let them know before she quit the band, right? She likes Octavia, but she’s not about to let that shit go.

Octavia doesn't flinch, but her mouth twitches into a grimace. "I owe you an explanation."

"Gee, you think?" Raven folds her arms. "We waited until we knew that you were locked in as a member of the band to sign up for College Comp. We specifically waited for you. Did you think of that?"

“Of course I thought of that,” Octavia snaps, fingers tightening around her bag. “That’s all I could think about.”

“And, what, you just decided that whatever it is that’s stopping you is more important than that?”

“No!”

“You sure about that?” Raven wishes she could shift the way she’s standing, if only because standing so statue-still is agonizing, but she gets the feeling that moving would be more painful than that. Or this conversation. “Because you quit anyways. Tell me why.”

“It’s.” Octavia sighs, and Raven watches most of the aggression seep out along with it. “I was in a band before The Sky People, this shitty punk rock band that wrote all their own songs and was really pretentious about it. They were all asshole misogynist creeps, and they liked insulting me in their spare time. I quit the band by kicking their bassist in the nads and running.”

“Okay, I respect that, but what does that have to do with this?”

“They’re going to be at College Comp.”

“...and?”

Octavia throws her hands up. “And I panicked, okay? These guys harassed me on a daily basis for months and said they’d do the same to anyone around me. I don’t think I’m ready to see them again.”

And, well, it’s not like Raven can begrudge her that. She’s a firm believer in the whole no-toxic-people philosophy, it’s why she never answers when her mom calls her. She’s definitely not going to force Octavia to be around people that were bad for her.

“But there’s no guarantee you’ll see them,” she says anyways, because damn it, she’s not about to let this band fall apart because Octavia wants to leave. “And if you did, we’ll kick their asses if they look at you wrong.”

“I know, I know, and I’ve taken self-defense classes and grown up a hell of a lot, and-” Octavia breaks off, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

Raven knows the line between “won’t” and “can’t” and, yeah, being around toxic people can fuck you up, but Octavia’s underestimating herself. Sure, Raven’s on the outside of this situation, but Octavia has a lot of untapped potential, and she’s probably not used to having a support system. They can protect her, dammit, doesn’t she realize that?

“Fine,” Raven says, hoping she doesn’t sound as frustrated as she feels. “I can’t make you stay, you know that.”

“Yeah, well.” Octavia shifts uncomfortably and moves one arm so she’s blocking her body off. “I really am sorry. If I felt like I could do it, I would in a heartbeat, but-”

“Hey,” Murphy says, appearing at Raven’s shoulder with two cups of coffee. “You ready to go?”

Raven nods curtly. “Good luck with things, Octavia. I hope it works out for you.”

“Yeah.” Octavia swallows. “You too.”

Raven, thankfully, walks steadily out of the coffee shop. She takes her coffee from Murphy as soon as they’re outside. “What did you get me, anyways?”

“What were you talking about?” Murphy says abruptly. It’s not an answer, but coffee is coffee, and this might be a bit more relevant to the task at hand anyways.

“She quit the band last night.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Something about her old band harassing her.” Raven takes a sip of her coffee; it’s burning hot and doesn’t taste like pumpkin or hazelnut. She likes it immediately. “It’s not really my business beyond figuring out who the fuck will play guitar now.”

“She just ditched you?”

Raven frowns. It’s not that he’s wrong, but he sounds too antagonistic about it. “Ditched is a strong word.”

“But that’s what she did.”

“In essence, sure.”

“Good riddance, then.” Murphy takes a drink of his coffee. He doesn’t notice Raven stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk for a solid ten seconds before he turns around, eyebrows raised. “Do you need me to be your walking stick again?”

“What do you mean, good riddance?” If he means what she thinks he means, they’re about to have Problems with a capital P. She’s pissed, sure, but Murphy on the outside of it all doesn’t get to be.

“I mean she dropped out. She couldn’t take the heat, so she got out of the kitchen. And, I mean, respect for that. She knows her limits.” Murphy shrugs. “But she’s screwing you guys over in the process, and you’re better off without that.”

Yep, they’re having Problems. “I don’t think you understand.”

“Enlighten me.”

“There’s a difference between self-preservation and selfishness. I’m not going to be mad at her for taking care of herself.” Well, not terribly much, at least. Raven understands, sure, but understanding and being happy about it are two completely different ball games.

“I’m not mad at her for that, I’m mad at her for ditching you guys after you signed up for College Comp.”

“What do you want me to do, tell her she’s not allowed to leave?”

“At least put up a damn fight! Act like you care about this band!”

“Act like-” Raven’s leg is hurt. Raven’s leg is hurt so she can’t drop-kick Murphy like she really, really wants to. She settles for limping a few steps closer to him. “The band that I founded? That I spend five hours a week rehearsing for, and even longer finding songs for? That I went out and got a shitty used bass so I could practice at home and leave my nice one with Clarke?”

“The band that you’re letting fall apart because you don’t want to fight with your guitarist?”

“Nobody else in the band is going to make her do anything. We’re going to respect her choice and be pissed as hell about it the whole time.”

Murphy laughs. Right in her face. Raven’s ears begin to ring, the way they do when she’s only bona fide genuinely pissed the fuck off.

“Is this funny to you?” she demands. “Is the concept of letting other people do what they want so foreign to you?”

“No, but watching you pretend that’s your real mission-” Murphy shakes his head. “That’s funny. Like you don’t want to go all control freak on Octavia’s ass.”

“Control freak?” Raven steps closer. She’ll let people say a great many things about her, but never anything that’s not true. “I’m not a control freak.”

“Please! You’re such a fucking control freak you’re limping around town looking for your roommate when you can barely walk! You say you trust him and you’re still freaking out.”

“So, what, you’re saying I care too much?”

“I don’t think you care at all.”

Time stops.

“Excuse me?” Raven limps another step closer, trying to stop the concentrated rush of fury inside her veins. It doesn’t work. “You think that I don’t care?”

Murphy surveys her, impassive and unimpressed. “No, I don’t.”

“You-” Raven rips the lid off her coffee. She’s not thinking clearly, and this might be assault or some shit, but she doesn’t let that stop her from dumping her hot coffee on his head. Anyone who would ever fucking dare to insinuate that she doesn’t care about her people deserves third-degree facial burns.

The coffee splatters on Murphy head, on his hair, splashing onto his face. It’s hot, not boiling or burning but hot enough to sting, and she hopes it stings the fuck out of him as it lands on his face. He reels back a step, stunned, coffee dripping down his shirt.

“Fuck you,” she spits, wishing it encompassed the vitriol she wants to spit at him. God, he was creepy, but he hadn’t seemed like such a dick before. She’s fucking incensed that he’s so terrible and that he ever made her think otherwise.

Murphy shakes his head, drops of coffee flying out of his hair. “You’re so fucking blind. You’re so caught up in acting like a hero that you’re forgetting how to be an actual human.”

“I don’t need to take that from our resident probable serial killer.” Raven’s mouth twitches into a sneer. “Like I said earlier. Go play in traffic, you piece of shit.”

And that’s supposed to be the end of it. She’s going to whip around and limp off into the distance without her coffee and find her roommate and never look at John fucking Murphy again. If she were directing this movie, that’s how it would go. Except there’s gum on the bottom of her left shoe, and that’s making it harder than normal to walk. So naturally she tries to scrape it off, what else is there to do? She goes to the curb and gingerly scrapes her foot along the edge, hoping the gum will just come off. Of fucking course she stepped on gum, isn’t that just how her day is going? What next?

“No,” Murphy says suddenly and from right the fuck behind her, “you first.”

Raven tries to turn around and demand what he means but his hands are on her shoulders, pushing her forward. She has a split second of sheer panic before she tips over the edge of the sidewalk.

“Shit-” she tries to catch herself, but all her weight falls on her left foot and her leg crumples beneath her. It feels like someone took a blowtorch to her shin and she hears herself scream in pain and her momentum is still going, she’s moving forward. She barely throws an arm in front of her face in time to avoid knocking all of her teeth out, but she’s still skidding forward. There’s a car horn blaring, and Raven remembers -

“Go play in traffic,” she said. And he said, “No, you first.”

And the car hits her.

 

 

 

“My serial killer coworker has a crush on you,” Monty explains, and she suddenly understands why he’d been trying not to giggle. **  
**

“He does not,” Raven laughs, almost dropping her slice of pizza. Friday nights are movie nights at Casa Reyes-Green. This particular movie night is a pizza night, and Raven thinks if Monty’s telling the truth she’s going to die laughing.

“No, I swear!” Monty full-on grins, eyes dancing. “His exact words were ‘I’m in love with your hot bassist roommate.’”

“Bullshit.”

Monty points behind her. “Ask him yourself.”

Raven frowns. “What?” Why would serial killer Murphy be in their apartment? She turns around to look and she’s in Grounders, fingers aching and pizza gone and Murphy in front of her. She wants to ask what’s going on, how she got here, but instead she finds herself saying, “You come here often or did you just want to see Monty?”

Right. She’s done this before, she knows the script. Why was she worried?

Murphy shoves his hands into his pockets. “He seemed real excited about the band. So did you, when you visited earlier. I figured, why not come?”

“You say that like I didn’t notice you last month.”

“You noticed me?”

She fights back a laugh. “Please. You’re the whitest person in here, standing in front of the window at night. How could anyone not notice you?”

“Good point.” Murphy offers the hint of a wry grin. “You sounded good tonight. The new guitarist is good.”

Raven’s phone buzzes; it’s Finn. She doesn’t think twice before tapping out an answer. “She knows what she’s doing. We’re lucky to have her.”

“You’ve got a good thing going here. Are you going to keep performing in Grounders?”

“And some other competitions.” Another text, another answer. Raven pauses. She knows something happens next, but she’s not sure what it is. She already lived this once, she should know - wait, she’s done this before? Why is she here again? And just like that, she remembers her line. “If you want, I can text you and let you know when they are.”

Murphy raises his eyebrows to his hairline. “I- what?”

“Well,” Raven drawls, “Monty mentioned that you liked his, quote, hot bassist roommate. So why not get her number?” She holds out her phone, but something’s wrong because when Murphy isn’t reaching for it. He’s walking away, going to stand behind her. She frowns. That’s not in the script. “What are you-”

His hands connect with her shoulders and Raven’s leg feels like it catches on fire. She screams as she stumbles face-first into what used to be the floorboards in Grounders. It’s a void now. Nothing. She’s falling into nothing. None of this is real, she thinks, and tries to laugh, but she’s still screaming. The world is rushing up around her and it’s everything and nothing and it’s-

 

 

 

It’s grey. **  
**

That’s what Raven realizes first. The light that’s filtering in is grey and dim. The walls look grey in the light. It feels like her bones are grey, too. She’s colorless and she has never been so tired.

Her eyes are open before she realizes she’s awake, and it takes her a few seconds to adjust. Everything is pleasantly hazy, but it feels blank. Everything feels blank.

She’s not home, is she?

Raven wills herself to focus. The walls aren’t like any in her apartment, or Clarke and Finn’s. They look sterile. She must be in a hospital. That explains the haze - she’s always wondered what painkillers would feel like, and now she knows. She’s in a bed, just as grey and sterile as everything else in the room. She can’t move. She’s not sure she wants to.

She blinks once, twice. It’s too light outside to be night, but too dark to be sunrise yet. That makes it around five in the morning, give or take an hour. And yeah, that’s not necessarily terrible, but she’s pretty sure the last thing she remembers was mid-morning. She’s been asleep for a while.

There’s a noise, off to her left, and she tries to look at it. Her neck feels like it’s made of lead, and it takes a dozen seconds longer than it should to move her head. The world swirls around her before it settles into a window, a silhouette, a chair, a guard’s uniform, a head asleep on top of it. She narrows her eyes. Painkillers aren’t supposed to cause hallucinations, as far as she knows, but it definitely looks like Bellamy. Which makes no sense. Do hospitals allow visitors overnight in patients’ rooms? Why would he stay? What happened to everyone? Shit, what happened to Monty?

Raven licks her lips and swallows. Her mouth is dry as shit and she really needs to take a piss and she has to find out what’s happening. “Did you find Monty?”

Her voice sounds like absolute crap, barely more than a croak, but it does what she wanted it to do. Bellamy jerks awake all at once, almost falling out of the chair in the process. He stares at her. “Oh my god,” he says groggily. “Shit.”

“Hi to you too.” They could’ve been good together, her and him, she thinks absently. Maybe not the way things were, but in the right time and place, they could’ve been good. He’s not a bad person, just a moron sometimes. She can only fault him for that so much. “Did you find Monty?”

“You already said that. Finn found him.” Bellamy leans forward. “Raven, you need to go back to sleep.”

“I was just asleep. Shouldn’t you call a nurse?”

“Well, in theory, yes.”

Raven raises her eyebrows, surprised at the lance of pain that shoots through her head. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Visitor hours end at eight, and it’s…” he glances at the table by her bed. “Three fifty-four. The hospital let them stay for an extra hour, but they all went back to Finn and Clarke’s place.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Visitors have to leave.” He looks at his feet. “Security guards, on the other hand, don’t get asked a lot of questions if they look like they know where they’re going.”

Raven smiles. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, well.” Bellamy has the decency to look embarrassed, but he meets her eyes again. “Like I was saying, I’d call a nurse, but they don’t know I’m here, and I don’t want to get thrown out.”

Raven settles back into bed. “Can you at least tell me what happened?”

“Do you remember anything?”

“I remember looking for Monty.” She was trying to decide how worried she should be, torn between trusting him and being scared by how he just vanished. “He wasn’t at work, so we went to Grounders, we thought he might be visiting Miller…” We. Why is she saying we? “Was I with someone?”

“One of Monty’s coworkers.”

If she could feel her hands, she’d snap her fingers. “Murphy.” That’s right. He wouldn’t leave her alone. “Was he there when I got hurt? What happened to me?”

“You got hit by a car.”

“A car?” There’s an ache building in the back of her skull, like someone’s keeping her head pressed against a wall. This can’t be happening. She can’t afford medical bills, and she’s not about to let Clarke pay for them. “Am I going to be okay?”

“The doctors say you’re probably concussed. They’ll talk to you later.”

“About my concussion?”

“Yes.” Bellamy looks away, and Raven wants to ask what he’s not telling her, but she’s tired. She’s so tired. “Go back to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“It is the morning,” she points out. They can talk about it now. “Is Murphy okay?”

Bellamy sighs. “The real morning, Raven. Right now, you need to recover.”

“You’re avoiding my questions.” She wants to sit up, but that’d take too much energy. “Why?”

“Because there are some things you shouldn’t have to deal with right now.” Bellamy leans forward and takes something in both his hands. It takes her a few seconds to realize that it’s her own hand. “I swear to god, I’ll answer anything you want to know in the morning. But right now, you need to sleep.”

His hands are warm. Callused, like hers, but still soft. He has good hands. He did last year, too. And that makes her think of them and their relationship and now is as good a time as any to ask something that’s been on her mind lately. “Do you think we ever would’ve worked out?”

Bellamy’s brown furrows. “Us? You mean us dating?”

“Yeah.” Raven blinks, trying to push back a swell of sorrow. “Do you?”

He sighs. “Not for much longer than we did.”

“Me neither.” She offers the best smile she can manage, hardly a smile at all. At least they’re on the same page there. “Thank you.”

“For fighting with you?”

“For staying now.”

“I can’t sneak in every night, you know.”

“But you came tonight.”

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

And, well, shit, you don’t find friends like that every day. Raven closes her eyes. “Don’t leave.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Bellamy squeezes her hand. She’s asleep before he lets go.

 

 

 

 **MARCH 13** **  
**

 

“We’re taking shifts,” Finn says. It echos in Raven’s painkiller-induced haze, and she would frown if she can feel her face. Taking shifts? Shifts for what? “There’s five of us, and we worked out our schedules so one of us is always here during visiting hours.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” an unfamiliar voice replies. It’s gratingly polite and Raven knows immediately that they’re a nurse.

“We know she’s getting discharged later today, hopefully, but we figured she should still have someone at home for the first week or so.” His thumb sweeps across the back of her hand and she lets it ground her, seep into her. “Her roommate emailed all of her professors and called her coworkers and all that. We want to make it as easy as possible for her once she’s awake.”

“She’s lucky to have such a good support system.”

“Yeah, I hope she thinks so too.”

“How long have you been dating?”

“How - what?” Finn immediately sounds flustered.

“Mmph,” Raven objects. She’d try and laugh if she was awake enough, or if she didn’t feel like her body was full of novocaine instead of blood.

“Of course that’s when you wake up,” Finn mutters. There’s a scraping noise, probably the chair moving, and then he’s brushing hair out of her face. “You awake?”

“Yeah.” God, she still sounds like shit and her eyes feel like they’re glued shut. She squeezes them shut and opens them, and there’s Finn, leaning over her, his hand firmly on hers. She has never been so grateful to see him. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Raven.” If he sounds a little shaky, well, she doesn’t blame him. She would too, if it were him in the hospital.

“How are you?”

“How am-” Finn laughs, a little breathlessly. “Scared shitless, up till now. But better.” He kisses Raven’s forehead and sits back in his chair, slumping bonelessly. She can see the nurse now, standing on the other side of her bed, looking pleasantly attentive. Finn squeezes her hand. “What about you?”

Raven takes stock of how she feels. She’s achy all over, muscles sore from all the sleep. Her left leg feels heavier than her right. She’s still only vaguely aware of her extremities, especially her fingers and her toes. And god, she really, really needs to piss.

“Thirsty,” she decides. She’s pretty sure she could drink an entire lake if there was one near enough, and that’s probably easier to fix than anything else.

Finn shakes his head. “You’re being a fucking hero,” he says fondly. “C’mon, really, how are you?”

“I’m not being a hero, I’m really thirsty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He lets go of her hand to pick up a plastic pitcher and cup from the table by her bed. “Can you sit up?”

“Let’s find out.” Raven moves her arms, at last feeling like her body is her own again, and tries to push herself upright. It’s a struggle, and the nurse comes over to help her maneuver her body. Thankfully, she ends up sitting. “What the hell happened?”

Finn glances at the nurse. “Can you get a doctor to talk to her?”

The nurse nods and makes a swift exit, closing the door. Finn hands Raven the water. “How much do you remember?”

“Getting hit by a car. Creepy Murphy was there.” Raven takes a tiny sip and it feels like everything is magically better. Water works miracles. “Bellamy was here earlier.”

Finn smirks. “Yeah, that was about four hours ago. He barely got out before the nurse got here.”

“At least he got out.” Another sip, a little more life back in her bones. “So tell me, what’s the damage?”

Finn’s smile fades. “Rae…”

“Don’t you ‘Rae’ me, Finnegan Collins.” She’d wag a finger if she weren’t dead set on drinking more water. “Just tell me I’ll still be able to walk, right?” She takes a drink of water, but it’s a little hard to swallow because Finn doesn’t say no. In fact, he’s looking at her in the specific sad way that she never really sees unless things are very, very wrong. She puts the cup down.

“They say,” Finn says, and grabs her hand again, “that you probably already had a stress fracture. When you fell, you made it worse and did something to the bone.”

Raven swallows. “Something permanent?”

“Yes, but it’s not severe.” Finn squeezes her hand. “I’ll let the doctor give you the gory details. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Bellamy said you found Monty. Where was he?”

“Harper’s apartment.”

She nods. It’s not totally unexpected. But there’s still something wrong, something in the back of her mind bothering her. “Where’s Murphy?”

Finn’s entire face darkens. “So you don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what?”

“The two of you got into a fight by Grounders.”

“Well, yeah, he was talking shit about Octavia.” And that’s something else that she has to resolve. What happened to Octavia? “I dumped my coffee on him and walked away, and he-”

 _No, you first,_ she thinks, and she looks down at her left leg. Finn is watching her, she can feel it. She laces her fingers through his. She’s going to need all of his support for this.

“Finn,” she says, and she’s proud of how steady it sounds, even though the effort it takes to control her voice is brutal. “Did I just happen to trip and fall in front of a car?”

“No.” Finn shuffles the chair over so he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with her. She leans on him immediately, and it makes her feel safer and more vulnerable than ever.

“Murphy pushed me, didn’t he.” It’s not a question.

He leans over, his cheek resting on her hair. “Octavia was leaving Grounders and heard you yelling. She saw it happen and called the ambulance.”

“Did he get arrested?”

Finn makes a disgusted noise. “She was the only one who said he pushed you. No other witnesses came forward, and he lied his ass off. But then he came in to visit you yesterday, and she tried to rip his eyes out.”

“Good for her.”

“Clarke punched him.”

Raven laughs, or at least tries to, but it comes out as a twinge in her ribs and a choked sob. Stress fracture. Broken bone. Someone she wanted to trust pushing her into fucking traffic. “Finn?”

“I’m here.”

“I know.” He’s never not here. It’s part of why she loves him. He’s not very good at doing much other than being there, but she doesn’t normally need it. She just needs him there.

 

 

 

The doctors explain to Raven that she has a concussion, a rather bad one, and some bruised ribs and a scraped-up arm. All of that is temporary and fixable, and she doesn’t need to worry about it too much. They also tell Raven that she rebroke her leg, that she lost a small piece of bone, that it’s nothing significant but her left leg is now slightly shorter than her right, that there will be physical therapy and crutches and braces. That she’ll probably need one of those for months. **  
**

She’s not sure how they can call that “nothing significant,” but then, they’re not the ones who won’t be able to walk without help. There goes her perfect record of only ever needing human crutches.

Finn is there. Of course he is. He’s texting the whole time, probably Clarke or Monty or someone else who cares. He asks questions when she doesn’t and listens the whole time and when the doctors leave he kisses her on the forehead before he goes to class, promising that someone will be there with her in a few minutes.

It’s the loneliest she’s ever felt, knowing she can’t even get up on her own to take a piss. At least Clarke helps her, once she gets there.

 

 

 

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
i spy something white. what is it?

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@rockin_raven There’s no way to tell, Raven. You’re in a hospital. Everything is white.

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@rockin_raven is it your nightside table

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@notfinncollins exactly. i TOLD you it’s not that hard @cgriffin

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@notfinncollins @rockin_raven How did he do that? He’s not even here!

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
@cgriffin @rockin_raven it really isn’t that hard, clarke.

 

 

 

Monty is the last one in the room for the band meeting, but he has two trays of coffee from Grounders, so she’s willing to let it slide. “From Miller,” he announces. “He says get well soon.” **  
**

“Tell him I say thanks.” Raven reaches out, but Monty shakes his head. “Oh, come on, I can have coffee on painkillers!”

“You can have tea,” Monty says, handing her a cup with a green live. “Better safe than sorry.”

“You’d rather give me something that theoretically has medicinal value than something that doesn’t? What if the tea reacts with the painkillers? I’d be better off with coffee, right?” Raven looks around the room. “Someone back me up here.”

“I’ll split my coffee with you,” Bellamy says diplomatically.

“That doesn’t count as backup.” Raven takes her tea sourly. “All right, Monty’s here, so that means we can go over the game plan.”

Octavia raises her hand. “Does the game plan involve killing Murphy in his sleep?”

“Unfortunately, I doubt it.” Monty puts a cup of coffee in her raised hand. “But I did just find out that he filed a request to not be scheduled with me, so I won’t have to punch that fucker whenever I see him.”

Raven raises her eyebrows. “Feeling violent?”

“Please,” Clarke snorts. “Like you wouldn’t kneecap Wick if he hurt one of us.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m ready to kneecap him on a regular basis. That’s different.”

“I want to hear the game plan.” Finn takes a coffee from Monty, staring intently at Raven. “Who was here when you came up with the game plan?”

“That’d be me.” Bellamy leans forward. “It’s a pretty good idea, honestly.”

“But before we go through the game plan…” Raven turns to Octavia. “Are you in the band?”

Finn frowns. “Yeah, what the hell was that?”

Octavia sighs. “It’s… personal issues, not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Bellamy repeats, such that everyone can tell he thinks it’s a big deal.

“It’s not!” She glares at him, and he glares back, and not for the first time Raven wonders if this is what she’s missing out on by not having siblings. If so, she has Finn, it’s kind of the same thing. “I’m back in. I’m back.”

Clarke sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Awesome, welcome back. Next time, talk it through with us beforehand, all right? No last-minute scares” Raven settles back into her bed more comfortably. “I’m assuming Finn told you all what happened to my leg, right?”

Everyone nods, almost in unison. Finn offers her his cup of coffee, and Raven takes a long, bracing drink before continuing. “I’m going to get discharged tomorrow, assuming they don’t find anything else wrong with me. I’m going to go home and take all my classes from home.”

“Can you play?” Octavia asks.

“Theoretically. But odds are it’s going to be too exhausting to stand up, and I need some time to recover without stressing about music. Which is why he-” she jerks a thumb at Bellamy - “is going to take my place for a couple weeks.”

Monty glances at Bellamy. “You play bass?”

“I did, a long time ago.” He sips his coffee. “I'll be able to pick it back up. It's like riding a bike, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Finn snorts. “All right, what else?”

“I’m going to have physical therapy three times a week.” That part is honestly terrifying, but she’s willing to do it so she can walk. “Between Clarke and Bellamy, I figure I should have someone to take me most of the time.”

“If not, you can call Miller,” Monty suggests. “He drives.”

Raven snaps her fingers. “That reminds me: you’re still going home for spring break.” She looks at Clarke. “You too.”

“Hell no,” Clarke says immediately.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Monty adds. “Nice try, though.”

Raven folds her arms. “You guys aren’t putting lives on hold for me. Clarke, you and your mom need to work things out face to face. And Monty, you haven’t shut up about Jasper taking Maya to meet the parents since you found out it was happening. Nobody’s missing anything for my sake.”

“What about me missing my peace of mind, knowing that you’re not spending break alone in our apartment?”

“I won’t be.” Raven looks at Bellamy.

“My apartment’s on the first floor of my complex,” Bellamy explains. “Raven can stay with me over break, it’ll be easier for her to get around.”

Octavia nods slowly. “I can come visit when you’re bored.”

“Which will be all the time,” Raven adds quickly. “And Finn, you’ll get the spare key.”

“Good, that was my next question.” Finn squeezes her hand. “You have a pretty good game plan, you know.”

“I do, don’t I?” Raven turns to Bellamy and holds out a fist. “Nice planning, dude.”

Bellamy fist-bumps her. “You too.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Look at you, planning out all the details.”

“Are you implying you didn’t think I’d have detailed plans?” Raven clasps a hand to her heart. “You wound me.”

“Yes, but I love you.” Clarke reaches for the TV remote. “Let’s put on a gameshow.”

“On a Friday afternoon?”

“It’s either that or a cop show marathon.”

Raven winces. “No, no, that’d be too loud, let’s do game-shows.”

She can’t even be surprised when the game-shows also end in yelling at the TV, but at least they’re not yelling at each other.

 

 

 

To: Octavia (9:49 PM)  
you sure you’re okay?

From: Octavia (9:51 PM)  
Absolutely

From: Octavia (9:55 PM)  
Tired of feeling like a victim

To: Octavia (9:56 PM)  
let’s kick their asses

 

 

 

 **MARCH 15** **  
**

 

The game plan, thank god, goes off without a hitch. Raven gets out on Saturday morning. Clarke drives her home and the two of them watch reruns of Project Runway for a while, and Clarke makes her real food and takes her to physical therapy, and Bellamy picks her up, and on Sunday Wick comes and watches Food Network with her while Monty’s at work.

And everything’s as good as it can possibly be. Not actually good, because Raven can’t maneuver her crutches yet and has to lean on whoever's with her a lot, and she misses being able to walk everywhere, but comparatively good.  She feels perfectly fine, beyond the obvious. Every time she says so, someone says she’s lying or putting on a brave face, but she means it. She feels like she always has.

Except then, before everyone leaves for spring break, they have their Sunday night rehearsal, and it’s going well, but-

“No, no, that’s not right,” Raven says from the couch.

Bellamy turns to her in exasperation, and she feels guilty for backseat-driving for all of two seconds. “What’s not right?”

“You’re-” she sighs. She can’t explain what’s wrong, but she can demonstrate. That’ll be easier, right? “Here.” She picks up her crutches and forces herself upright. Clarke materializes behind her, keeping a respectful distance but still spotting her.

Bellamy pulls the bass off of his shoulders as she gets closer. “You need help?”

Monty hisses through his teeth, and Raven shoots him a look halfway between amused and annoyed. “No, I’ve got it. I don’t need the neckstrap, just hand it to me.”

The problem, she realizes quickly, is that she needs the crutches to stay standing, but both the bass and the crutches need both hands. Bellamy, apparently one step ahead of her, does not hand her the bass.

“Damn it,” she mutters, shifting the crutches. “Hang on, I can-” she rests her elbows on the crutches, but it’s shaky and she wobbles back and forth for a few seconds before grabbing back onto them. “Okay, wait.”

“Raven,” Clarke murmurs.

Raven shakes her head. “No, I’ve got this, just give me a second.” Maybe if she just leans on her right crutch, she’ll have both hands free to demonstrate?

“It’ll be easier with the neckstrap,” Bellamy says, and his voice is gentle, soothing, just patronizing enough to sting.

“Bellamy, I swear to god-” Raven’s crutch slips, and suddenly she’s falling. Clarke catches her, hands steady on her waist, but the damage is done. Her crutch clatters to the floor, and to her absolute horror, she can feel tears pricking behind her eyes.

Bellamy picks up her crutch, keeping his face perfectly blank. “Here.”

Raven takes it, trying to ignore the tremor in her hands. “Thanks,” she says, and god, they can all probably hear how thick her voice sounds, they can tell she’s about to cry, can’t they?

“You can show me what I was doing wrong after rehearsal,” Bellamy says. It’s a pretty diplomatic way of saying “take some time to pull yourself together” and she kind of wants to punch him for it.

“C’mon, Raven,” Clarke says quietly. “Back to the-”

Raven jerks away. “Y’know, actually, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be out in a minute, don’t worry.”

“Raven,” Finn says, but Raven’s moving faster than she has since the accident. “Raven!”

“Keep practicing or I’ll kick your asses,” Raven says, continuing doggedly into the bathroom.

She closes the door behind her so she doesn’t have to hear the concerned muttering. Then she turns the sink on, sits on the toilet, and hopes that they can’t hear her bury her face in the crook of her arm and start sobbing.

They always say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and Raven thinks that maybe walking like a normal person is something she never expected to lose.

 

 

 

The funny thing is that Raven and Finn never thought they’d keep playing music outside of high school. Shit, they never thought they’d play in high school, but sometimes unexpected things happen. Like jazz band. **  
**

The story of how they joined jazz band is as follows: they needed an elective. They had an open period, and they needed something to fill the gap, and the music program was notoriously bad. It was a no-brainer. Raven secretly hoped that she’d learn actual music, but she was content with teaching herself the bass through guess-and-check and playing pop songs by ear. Jazz band was essentially a free period, with a teacher who didn’t care what they did.

And then the school hired Mrs. Monaghan.

It was the start of their junior year, and they hired some up-and-coming teacher from Arizona who wanted to change the world through the power of music, or some bullshit. From the lower end of the school’s economic spectrum, Raven personally thought that was a pipe dream, but what did she know? Maybe she’d learn something.

Mrs. Monaghan spent the first two months getting to know her students and their abilities. The jazz band consisted of a handful of wind players from the marching band, a classically trained pianist who didn’t understand jazz for shit, and Raven and Finn. None of them knew what they were doing, but Mrs. Monaghan didn’t care. She taught them anyways.

Jazz band brought Raven the first group of actual friends beyond Finn that she’d ever had. A couple of them joined her autoshop class, and a couple more took art with Finn, and she only switched from German class to Spanish for Sheryl Truong’s sake. Mrs. Monaghan was their hero through it all, taking them from a rag-tag group of wannabe musicians to an actual vaguely-musical jazz band. It was like some bullshit inspirational Hollywood movie, except they never won any state championships or defied any drastic odds. All they did was make music together. Good music.

When Raven and Finn graduated, the only seniors in their year, Mrs. Monaghan gave them their instruments as gifts. Raven was too shocked to cry when Mrs. Monaghan told her the new electric bass was hers, amp and all, but Finn was definitely sniffling. All they had to do was promise that they’d keep playing.

They didn’t. Not at first, at least. Between classes and work and dating each other, music fell by the wayside until they heard Clarke playing her guitar. The band was a happy accident, but one that Raven wouldn’t take back. It snowballed from a “hey what if” to a “let’s mess around with it” and then a “maybe we should do this for real,” and the rest is history.

Raven didn’t keep in touch with Mrs. Monaghan. She thinks Finn might’ve, but she never asked. All she knows is that she owes her an email and some thanks.

 

 

 

 **MARCH 17** **  
**

 

Spring break, in a word, sucks.

Bellamy’s apartment has all the amenities - Wi-Fi, a couch, food, no stairs - but it’s not home. Finn visits her every day, but he always picks up extra hours at work over spring break, so he’s not there the whole time. Octavia lives in the dorms and she visits when she can, but she can’t always. Even Bellamy is working a lot. So basically, it’s Raven by herself a lot of the time, either texting Clarke or Monty or watching shitty reality TV.

It’s a pleasant change of pace when Octavia crashes into the apartment and throws herself down on the couch next to Raven. “You have to listen to this.”

“Happy Tuesday to you too,” Raven answers. She uses one of her crutches as a lever to push herself closer to Octavia. “What am I listening to?”

“Remember how we were talking about needing a good closer for our College Comp set list?”

“Um.” Is there a good way to tell her that she’s mixing Raven and Finn up? Finn had mentioned the conversation to her, but she hadn’t actually been there for it. “No?”

Octavia shrugs. “Well, now you know that’s an issue. Not that you didn’t already.”

That much is true; Raven has been searching for a good closing song since break started. They have a lot of great starting songs, and Jet Pack Blues will be a good second song, but they don’t have anything fit for a finale. “Did you find one?”

“Roma - do you know Roma? She works with me and Finn?”

“The one from Instagram?”

“Yeah, her. She suggested Taylor Swift as a joke, and I didn't take it seriously, but then I remembered this cover. We can start with Radioactive or Burn It Down, and use this to wrap. It’ll sound awesome, here.” Octavia holds her phone out, and Raven takes it suspiciously.

“Taylor Swift?”

“I swear, it fits with our sound.”

Raven has to admit that Octavia really can pick ‘em. The song has the perfect energy to be a closer, some great guitar licks, and she already knows Finn will be salivating over the drum part. “Tell Roma I owe her a drink.”

“Monty can play the second guitar part on keyboard, right?”

“Definitely.” Raven’s already going through the parts in her head, moving chords around. She’ll need some sheet music or guitar tabs or something, but she can arrange based on those.

“And we don’t even need to tell anyone it’s Taylor Swift!”

“Oh, please, no one in the band will have a problem with it.”

Octavia raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Clarke probably already knows all the words, Finn will love the drum part too much to care, and Monty-” she cuts herself off. She’d already sworn that she wouldn’t tell anyone about the Shake It Off incident from last month, and she can’t go back on that.

“Monty?”

“Will be fine with it. Scout’s honor.”

Raven makes Finn listen to it when he comes by with a bag full of Chinese takeout for dinner, and then Bellamy when he gets home for the night. As predicted, Finn likes the drum part too much to object to Taylor Swift. Bellamy just nods and goes to bed. Raven wishes Clarke were here. She’d be excited.

 

 

 

From: rreyes@mwu.edu  
To: cgriffin@mwu.edu, mgreen@mwu.edu  
Subj: new song!

arrangement on the way. thank o when you get back, she found it.

Attachment: style.mp3

 

 

 

**MARCH 19**

 

Direct messages with @therealjasperj

when is m’s birthday??

uh. yesterday.

didn’t he tell you?

of course not, let’s be realistic here

you’re unfortunately right. don’t make a big thing out of it, he hates that.

can i at least call and say happy birthday?

not right now, my sister roped him into helping her shop for prom dresses.

already? isn’t she like 15 and prom is next month?

a friend asked her. i met her and told her i’d kill her if she hurt my sister.

you seem like the best brother.

**  
  
  
**

**Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
happy late bday @beingmontygreen you beautiful bastard. drink a beer for me.

 **It’s Not Easy** @beingmontygreen  
@rockin_raven what’d I do to earn the title beautiful bastard? and thank you.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@beingmontygreen you moved in with me but you always eat my leftovers. yw. have a good day, babe.

 **Clarke Griffin** @cgriffin  
@beingmontygreen Happy 21st!

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia  
hbd to the coolest pianist i know @beingmontygreen <3

 **Cinn Follins** @notfinncollins  
i have the best twitter name, but the birthday boy @beingmontygreen has second best.

 **Bellamy Blake** @bellblake  
Hey, @beingmontygreen we don’t talk much but happy birthday anyways.

 **It’s Not Easy** @beingmontygreen  
@rockin_raven look what you started. my birthday was YESTERDAY, raven.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@beingmontygreen made ya capslock! <3

 **It’s Not Easy** @beingmontygreen  
Drinking a beer for my practically perfect roommate @rockin_raven. Thinking of you. pic.twitter/af73c93

**  
  
  
**

**MARCH 20**

 

Raven doesn’t think about Wick much more than necessary. Why would she? He’s a dick, an idiot, and only decent in bed. He does, however, have a car, which means that on Friday night when Bellamy is working and Clarke is in New York, he’s the one who takes her to PT.

“Thanks for this,” Raven says, trying not to let her embarrassment show as she slides - well, hobbles - into the passenger seat of his station wagon. “Really.”

“Hey, anything to get my best mechanic back to work.” Wick grins at her. “By the way, if it wouldn’t feel too much like a pity job, we could always use someone to answer the phones.”

“Fuck no. I’m working on cars or I’m not working.”

“Thought so. Also, I have no clue where the hospital is.”

“You’re so useless,” Raven sighs, but it’s as fond as possible. “You can just drop me off once we get there. Turn right.”

Wick nudges her. “I’m not letting my crippled friend out of my sight.”

She elbows him back, digging into his ribs. “Don’t call me crippled.”

“Yeah, you’re right. My bad.”

Raven raises her eyebrows. “That was… pretty painless.”

Wick laughs. “Haven’t you figured out yet? People are going to be really nice to you for a long time.”

Raven shudders. That sounds like the literal meaning of hell.

True to his word, Wick doesn’t let her out of his sight the entire time. He goes in with her, talks to her therapist, and even does some of her exercises with her. Thankfully, he looks just as ridiculous as she does the entire time, and he’s sweating when they finish.

“Don’t you work out?” Raven asks, picking up a bottle of water.

“Fuck you,” Wick says, which actually means “no, I don’t, and I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” She hands him the water. He probably needs it more than her.

Raven’s therapist wishes them well and sends them off and reminds Raven to come in again on Monday. Raven’s not sure how she could forget, seeing as her social calendar wiped itself completely blank after the accident, but she says thanks and leaves anyways.

“Seriously,” Wick says as they make their way out, “are you going to be on crutches forever?”

“Maybe.” Raven shrugs. “I really need a leg brace, it’d help, but I’m broke as shit and Clarke’s mom cut her off.”

“Well, yeah, but couldn’t you use the money from the GoFundMe for that?”

“Crowdfunding is cheating, I thought I told you that.”

Wick stops walking. When Raven turns to look at him, he looks massively confused. She lifts her eyebrows. “Uh. Dude?”

“Crowdfunding is cheating, but you changed your mind,” he says, looking at her oddly. “Right?”

“No, it’s… still cheating. Why would you think-”

“So you didn’t set it up?”

Raven wants to fold her arms, but instead she leans forward on her crutches. “Set what up?”

“The GoFundMe.”

“What GoFundMe?”

“The one raising money to pay for your medical bills?” Wick shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have donated if I knew you didn’t know about it, I swear, I didn’t-”

“Wick.” Raven pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just send me the link so I can yell at whoever’s responsible.”

“I already know who’s responsible.” He pauses. “Well, I don’t remember the name, exactly, but it was a J. Something weird. Jency, or Jamison, or-”

Raven drops her head. She’s going to kill him. “Jasper.”

**  
  
  
**

**Help Raven Reyes!**

$1,912 of $2.5k raised by 54 people in 8 days  
Created March 12, 2015 by Jasper Jordan

Raven Reyes is a force of nature. I met her through my closest friend, who has since become her roommate. She’s smart as a whip, funny, and good at pretty much everything. Don’t believe me? Here is a video of her talking about fixing cars in a promo for Mount Weather Auto Body, and here’s her playing bass with her band The Sky People.

Unfortunately, Raven was in a brutal car accident that seriously damaged her leg. She’ll be able to walk, but she’ll need assistance - crutches, a cane, or a brace - and a lot of physical therapy. She’s such a stellar person that I can’t just let her sit there and be unable to walk.

All proceeds from this GoFundMe will go to funding Raven’s medical bills, including her stay in the hospital, her physical therapy, and any walking aids that she needs. Please, help me help her. She deserves it.

**  
  
  
**

**Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Want to help an awesome person’s life post-injury get easier? Fundraise! http://gofundme.com/HelpRaven

 **It’s Not Easy** @beingmontygreen  
Fundraising on the down-low to help my roommate. Donate if you can. http://gofundme.com/HelpRaven

 **Wick** @quickkwick  
My coworker got hit by a car, help a sister out. http://gofundme.com/HelpRaven

 **Maya Vie** @cestmayavie  
http://gofundme.com/HelpRaven Help Raven recover!

 **Harper Beauvais** @haaaaaarper  
If you’ve got extra $$ help one of my friends! http://gofundme.com/HelpRaven

 **Nathan Miller** @millernathan  
Friend of a friend got in an accident. Help with hospital bills?  http://gofundme.com/HelpRaven

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Raven, what’s up?” **  
**

“Do you think I need your charity?”

Raven can almost hear Jasper’s mental monologue of “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” through the phone. Good. He deserves to be fucking scared. “Who told you?”

“Wick. He had no idea that I didn’t know.”

“Who the fuck is Wick?”

“Wait, is that- put it on speaker,” Raven hears. There’s shuffling, and Jasper whispers something frantically, and then Monty says, “Okay, so we owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me the biggest, best explanation of your life.” Raven spent the entire ride home from physical therapy stewing and steaming, reading through the GoFundMe and some of its comments and shares. Wick looked downright scared when he dropped her off in front of Bellamy’s complex.

“Wait, first can we figure out who Wick is so I can kick his ass for spilling the beans?”

“He works at the garage with her.”

“Could I kick his ass?”

Raven snorts. “He’d snap you in half, you toothpick.” It’s probably not true - Jasper’s fast, and Wick’s weak for a dude who works on cars - but she’s pissed enough to say it anyways. “Now talk.”

“It was my idea,” Monty says immediately. “I mentioned to Jasper that it’d be nice to have some extra money for the bills, said maybe we could crowdsource-”

“No, stop, this was my idea.”

“Jas-”

“I’m a big kid, Monty, you don’t have to take the fall for me.”

There’s some furious whispering that Raven can’t make out, and then Jasper comes back. “Look, Monty mentioned that you were worried about the bills, but the crowdfunding was my idea. I set it up and then told him, and he said we’d have to keep it secret from you or else you’d kick my ass from here to Timbuktu.”

“Surprisingly enough, now that it’s not a secret, I still want to do that.”

Jasper hisses through his teeth. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

“Why would you set it up without telling me?”

“You would’ve said no if I asked.”

“Exactly. Which is a sign that you shouldn’t do it at all.”

“Raven, we were-”

“Do you think I want your fucking charity?”

Monty sighs. “Raven, I swear to god, none of this is charity.”

“Really? It’s not you taking it upon yourselves to help someone that you deemed to be in need? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what charity is.”

“It’s not charity, it’s making sure you don’t go broke over something that wasn’t even your fault.” Jasper sounds immensely frustrated. “It’s not that we think you’re bankrupt or poor or anything, it’s that this is going to be a stressful time and you shouldn’t have to worry about how you’re going to pay for it when you’re not working.”

Raven grips the arm of Bellamy’s couch, reminding herself that this isn’t hers and so she can’t rip a hole in it like she really, really wants to. “Everyone who goes to the hospital worries about money, why should I be any different?”

“Because we can do something about it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s what happens when people care.”

“If you really cared, you’d let me handle this on my own.”

“Raven,” Monty says gently, “what if it were me?”

Shit. “That’s not fair.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have parents and probably good insurance. I don’t have either.”

“You have Clarke, though, and before you say anything, she would absolutely call her mom and get the money if you needed it.”

“Well, apparently I don’t need it, because you decided to play savior.”

“Oh, please.” Jasper’s rolling his eyes, she can feel it in her bones. “Like everyone else in the band didn’t donate a couple hundred bucks each.”

“Yeah, Clarke and Finn didn’t share it, but they definitely saw it.”

Raven makes a mental note to rip into Finn the next time he visits. “Look, I appreciate the effort, but this is something I can deal with on my own.”

“It’s not pity. You know that, right?”

For a second, Raven considers saying no, she doesn’t know that. It might be framed nicely, but it’s still people feeling sorry for her. It’s still people thinking “oh, how awful, I’m lucky I’m in a position to help this poor unfortunate girl.” Even if they think they’re doing something right, Raven feels slimy accepting money from strangers.

But she read the description. Jasper did his best to frame her as a person who was special in her own right, not a victim. He made her seem like she was a worthy investment, and even if she resents feeling like a thing rather than a person, she understands what he was thinking. He just wanted to help in the best only way he could.

“I know you didn’t mean for it to feel like pity,” she answers. “But it kind of does, and I’d appreciate it if you took it down.”

Monty says quietly, “There’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help.”

“I know.” She swallows, ignoring the sudden thickness in her throat. “It’s coming from a good place, and from good people. But I can’t take it. None of them owe me anything.”

A keyboard clicks across the phone line, too slow to be Monty. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Jasper sighs. “If you insist, then I can go on the site and take it-” he cuts off, making a strangled noise.

Raven’s brow furrows. “Jasper?”

“Holy fucking shit,” Monty says, which really helps not at all.

“Guys?”

They don’t answer for a few seconds, and then Jasper says, “How much was there when you saw it?”

“Around two thousand, why?”

Monty takes a deep breath. “Someone anonymously donated eight thousand dollars.”

Wait. What? “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, I swear, it just - three minutes ago, totally anonymous.”

Raven scrubs a hand down her face. It’s easy to turn down two thousand dollars - that’d cover half the treatment, tops, and it’s nothing that work and saving money can’t replenish - but that number has just made itself a lot more appealing. “Are you sure it’s legit?”

“As sure I am about any of this.” There’s a pause, and Jasper says, “There’s a message.”

“You can leave messages? What does it say?”

“All it says is ‘Sorry.’”

Great. Pity. “Christ.”

“Do you still want me to take it down?”

She does, but. Ten thousand dollars. That’s enough to pay for her bills, a brace, more therapy, and have some left to get something nice for everyone in the band to thank them for all their help. That’s really, really useful. That might be worth swallowing her pride. “Not yet.”

Jasper exhales noisily. “Thank god, I would’ve been judging you hardcore if you let that go.”

Raven glares at her phone, hoping he can feel it through the cell towers.

“Sorry is a weird message,” Monty muses. “It's condescending.”

“Or legitimately apologetic,” Jasper adds. “Maybe someone who had medical bills and sympathizes?”

“How much does it matter? Cut it out.”

“Nah, man, I’m curious, I want to psychoanalyze this person. I bet they’re weird.”

Raven pinches the bridge of her nose. This is really not something she wants to hear. “This is all resolved, so I’m going to hang up.”

“Tell all the relevant people I say hi,” Monty says.

“Me and Maya say hi, too. You can’t see it, but I’m waving.”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Talk to me next time before you make decisions about my future, okay? And tell Maya hi for me.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.” She can picture Jasper saluting his phone. “See you in a few days.”

“Bye, guys.” She pauses, bites her lip. “And thank you.”

The silence inside Bellamy’s apartment is suffocating. Ten thousand dollars. Raven hasn’t looked at leg braces, but that has to be enough for a good one, right? Her shitty health insurance will offset some of her medical expenses, but this is a lot of money. It’s definitely going to save her a lot of grief. But Monty was right - saying sorry is a weird message. It’s either incredibly sincere or incredibly insincere, and Raven doesn’t know anyone who would feel legitimately apologetic.

Well, unless it was their fault.

 

 

 

To: Clarke (7:42 PM)  
were you going to tell me about the gfm?

From: Clarke (7:43 PM)  
Who spilled the beans?

From: Clarke (7:44 PM)  
Btw Mom says hi & get well soon.

To: Clarke (7:46 PM)  
hi abby

To: Clarke (7:48 PM)  
wick told me

From: Clarke (7:51 PM)  
For what it’s worth, I think it’s worth keeping the money. $2k goes a long way.

To: Clarke (7:53 PM)  
someone donated 8k

From: Clarke (7:53 PM)  
What the FUCK

From: Clarke (7:55 PM)  
Do you know who?

To: Clarke (7:58 PM)  
it was anonymous but i have an idea

From: Clarke (7:59 PM)  
Tell them thanks from everyone who cares about you.

To: Clarke (8:01 PM)  
something like that

 

 

 

Murphy never visited Raven. **  
**

She can't be too mad at him for that. There’s a laundry list of people who would beat the shit out of him, herself included. He pushed her in front of a car, for Christ’s sake. Forgiveness and benevolence can’t help him there.

Still, a text would’ve been nice. Or a call. Or anything other than the radio silence he’s giving her. He’s a piece of shit, of course, but she didn’t think he’d be this shitty. And she knows she should be grateful that someone very apologetic just donated eight thousand dollars to her medical bills, but instead, she’s a little bit livid. No word, nothing at all, and then the world most emotionally-inept financial apology? Yeah, that's not going to be okay.

She knows that it’s a bad idea to call him right now, when she’s upset and tired and angry. She knows that. She thinks about it as she pulls his number up in her phone and as she hits call and as she waits for him to pick up. It’s a terrible idea, really.

He picks up almost immediately. “Raven?”

“You’re the worst human being I’ve ever met,” Raven says without preamble.

Murphy sighs. “Hello to you too.”

“Yeah, because you totally have the right to be sarcastic with me right now, you asshole.”

“It’s automatic. It’s a defense mechanism.”

“Is shoving people into oncoming traffic also automatic, or was that intentional?”

That shuts him right the fuck up. Raven hopes he’s squirming. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how did you find the GoFundMe?”

“You knew it was me?”

Raven wishes she could reach through the phone and slap him. “The message gave it away. Stay on track. How did you find it?”

“I follow Monty’s Twitter. I had to dip into my savings, but it was worth it.”

Raven scoffs. “Am I supposed to be sympathetic? Boo-fucking-hoo, the guy who pushed me into oncoming traffic spent a lot of money on my hospital bills. What a tragedy for you.”

“Are you calling to mock everything I say?”

“No, but that’s a bonus. I’m calling to tell you that you’re a fucking coward.”

“For giving you eight thousand dollars?”

“For not attaching your name to it.”

“Would you have accepted it if you knew it was from me?”

“This is me, accepting it, even though I know it’s from you.” It’s probably a good idea that she called him instead of storming into his work or something, she’d probably be bludgeoning him with a crutch if he were within reach. “Actually, I’m more likely to accept it knowing it was you.”

She can practically hear Murphy’s raised eyebrows as he says, “Really?”

“Yeah, that way I know you actually give a damn.”

“Of course I do.”

“Could’ve fooled me, with all those phone calls.”

“That’s not fair.”

Raven hangs up on him.

Nothing about this situation is fair. She’s not about to pretend otherwise. But for him to say that she’s being unfair to him, by expecting anything other than nothing - he has a lot of fucking nerve to talk to her about unfairness right now. He couldn’t handle being told he was wrong, and now she can’t walk.

Okay, granted, she dumped her coffee on him, but he deserved it.

Her phone starts buzzing in her hand. He’s calling her back. Raven lets it ring for a dozen seconds before answering. “Are you ready to act like a grown-up?”

“I’m sorry. For pushing you in front of the car.” He sounds legitimately contrite, too. “And I’m sorry about your leg. It’s my fault, so I figured I should at least help cover some of the costs.”

“Smart.” Raven leans back into the couch cushions. “Anything else?”

“And… I’m a piece of shit?”

“Yes, you are. And I don’t forgive you.”

“But-”

“I’ll forgive you when I can walk without help again.”

Murphy sighs. “That’s… that’s fine.”

“Look at you, being all mature and shit.” Raven smirks at her phone. “Thank you for your donation. It makes you seem less like the bastard you are.”

“Thanks,” he says drily. “So can I visit, or would your people kill me?”

“Oh, they’d definitely kill you, don’t even bother.”

“And can I text you, or would you kill me?”

Raven pauses. When he’s not actively sabotaging her life, he was decent for conversation, but she has a powerful grudge to hold. “Why don’t you text me and find out?”

“What, no straight answer?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” It’s as honest as she’s going to be with him right now.

“Yeah, sure. But I kind of need to get back to work, so I’m going to hang up now.”

“Yeah, yeah, go scare customers with your face.”

“Bye, Raven.”

Well. That was more of a success than she expected.

 

 

 

To: atmonaghan@wvcsd.net  
From: rreyes@mwu.edu  
Subj: [No subject]

Hi Mrs. Monaghan,

I know it’s been a few years, but I’ll assume you remember me. I can’t believe I graduated almost three years ago, it feels like just yesterday that you came in like a hurricane and completely changed the band program. This email address is still valid, so I’m going to assume you’re still in the district. Are you still at AHS? How’s the program doing?

I’m not writing for any reason, really. I just realized that I haven’t heard from you since graduating, and I thought it might be nice to say hello. I’m still playing, but not jazz anymore. I’m actually in a rock band with my roommate and a few friends. We’re halfway decent and everything.

I hope all is well with you. How’s Farrah doing in school? And your wife’s law practice? Have you gotten legally married since the ban was overturned?

Glad as I am to be out of high school, I still miss you and the program some days. Jazz is a whole different world from rock bands. Wish I could visit.

Best wishes,  
Raven Reyes

 

 

 

**APRIL 1**

 

Raven is back playing the bass the week after that. She’s strictly sitting down, but Finn and Clarke find an old folding chair, and she can play from that. Monty doesn’t let her walk up the stairs anywhere, but she finds ramps and elevators to get where she’s going.

PT goes from awful to less awful to actually helpful. Wick starts taking her regularly, and it’s surprisingly fun with him there, huffing and puffing. Murphy’s money gets her a cane and a leg brace, and those are much, much easier to use than the crutches.

“I kind of wish that bastard could see you walk,” Monty admits one day. “I’m not sure what he was trying to do to you, but it’d be nice to tell him it didn’t work.”

“We could always walk me into the store when he’s working.” Raven shrugs. “Get someone to drive us there, walk in, walk out. Scare the shit out of him.”

Of course, Murphy actually texted her once or twice, and both times she was in a good enough mood to respond. Granted, it was mostly one or two words per message, but responses are responses. He knows about the cane and brace, but she hasn’t actually seen him since the accident.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Monty looks thoughtful. “I think he’s working now, actually.”

Clarke is more than willing to take them to TekFix once Monty tells her the idea. Finn asks Monty to take a video of Murphy’s reaction. For posterity, and his humiliation, and all that. Raven, who values Murphy's humiliation, agrees.

Raven walks into TekFix without help from Monty, still hobbling on her cane and wishing her brace fit under her jeans, but by herself.

“Hello, welcome to Te-” Murphy starts, and then he recognizes her. It’s even better than she thought it’d be: his eyes bulge, he swallows hard, and his jaw starts working before he says “Holy shit.”

“Surprise, motherfucker,” Raven says cheerfully. Behind her, holding the door open, Monty starts laughing. “I’m only here for long enough to surprise you, but I have something I wanted to tell you.”

Murphy stares at her. “You - what?”

Raven adjusts her weight so most of it is on her good leg and lifts her cane to point at him. “I win.”

Monty high-fives her on the way out. Still in her car out front, Clarke gives them a thumbs-up. Raven really does feel like she won.

**  
**

 

 

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
PSA: @rockin_raven is my hero. Wish I had half the balls she does.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@therealjasperj balls have nothing to do with it, dude.

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
@rockin_raven Good point.

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Edit to my previous tweet: @rockin_raven is my hero and I wish I were as gutsy as her.

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@therealjasperj much better. @beingmontygreen you raised him well

 **It’s Not Easy** @beingmontygreen  
@therealjasperj @rockin_raven Thanks. I tried.

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
@rockin_raven @beingmontygreen What makes you think HE raised ME?

 **Maya Vie** @cestmayavie  
@therealjasperj @rockin_raven @beingmontygreen he did, dear. sorry.

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
@cestmayavie @rockin_raven @beingmontygreen No, you’re totally right, he’s the responsible one.

 **It’s Not Easy** @beingmontygreen  
@therealjasperj @cestmayavie @rockin_raven Damn straight. Now go clean your room.

**  
**

 

 

**APRIL 9**

 

Mount Weather is pretty big, as far as small towns go, and cars make life a lot easier. Raven never fully realized this and was content with walking everywhere or maybe renting a bike. Now that neither of those are options, everything seems very, very far away.

Thankfully, blessedly, Bellamy drives Raven and Monty to band practice while Raven can’t walk. It’s not that it’s far objectively speaking, it’s that Raven can only stand for one song at a time per rehearsal and walking is really out of the question. So Bellamy drops them off, goes and does whatever Bellamys do, and picks them up if he’s not working. Unfortunately, he’s also a staunch believer in the “Keep Raven From Going Broke” initiative, so he won’t take gas money from either of them.

“What’s the point in keeping me financially afloat if you’re going to drown?” Raven complains, letting Monty help her out of the passenger seat. It’s Thursday, it’s April, it’s been four weeks since the accident, and it’s time to let her start paying for things again.

“Taking you to and from rehearsal isn’t going to bankrupt me,” Bellamy says patiently. “Speaking of which, I’m working late tonight. Can Clarke take you home?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure of it. Now get out of here.”

“Thanks, Bellamy,” Monty adds quickly.

Bellamy waves as he drives away. Raven shifts her cane. It’s getting easier to stand upright, and the cane feels more natural in her hand now. “We should take the stairs.”

Monty snorts. “Yeah, in your dreams.”

“Come on. One flight?”

“No way. And quit pouting, it’s a bad look for you.”

Raven intentionally pouts even more. “But Monty, we-”

“Raven?”

She’s faster at turning around now than she used to be. She doesn’t need to turn to see who it is, but she does anyways. Monty steadies her, hand on her elbow, as she turns to face a stunned Abby Griffin.

Raven smiles wanly. “Hi, Abby.”

Abby is gaping at her. Raven wishes she wouldn’t.

Monty looks directly at Abby. “Have we met?”

That jolts Abby awake. “I don’t think we have. Raven?”

Raven waves a hand between them. “Monty, this is Abby Griffin, Clarke’s mom. Abby, this is Monty Green, my new roommate.”

Abby steps forward and shakes Monty’s hand. “It’s good to meet you. Clarke mentioned you over break. You’re the, ah, keyboard player, right?”

Monty looks surprised. “Uh, yeah, I am. I didn’t realize you’d be-”

“Hey, I have an idea!” Raven says quickly. Doubting Abby’s support to her face is a bad idea. “Monty, why don’t you go up and tell Clarke that I’m here and her mom is walking me up? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, we have some catching up to do.”

Monty frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Raven puts on her least suspicious sunny smile. “I’ll be fine. Abby used to be a surgeon, she’ll know what to do if I collapse.”

He points at her. “No collapsing. And no stairs.”

She screws her face up. “I can handle stairs.”

“We’re not testing that today.” He looks at Abby. “Nice meeting you, Senator Griffin. Don’t let her go on the stairs.”

“I would never,” Abby says lightly, but her eyes are fixed on Raven’s leg.

Monty pats Raven’s elbow and goes inside Clarke’s building. Unfortunately, that doesn’t break Abby’s stare at the leg brace, and Raven rolls her eyes. “My eyes are up here.”

Abby’s eyes snap up to her face. She looks guilty. “I don’t mean to stare, it’s just quite a change. You used to… bounce a lot.”

“Bounce?” Raven shakes her head in bemusement. Shifting her weight hardly counts as bouncing. “I’m getting much better, it’s no problem. I can even take the stairs.”

“But that’s not going to happen, so let’s get to the elevator.” Abby takes an uncertain step towards her. “Do you need my help to walk?”

“Nope, I’ve got this.” Raven lifts her cane and starts towards the door. Abby quickly falls into step next to her.

Finn doesn’t like Abby very much. Clarke and Raven both know it. He respects her, but he thinks she’s trying to smother Clarke. On a good day, Clarke knows that he’s being ridiculous; on a bad day, like any World War Griffin, she agrees with him.

Raven, on the other hand, has always gotten along with Abby. Abby always takes an interest in whatever Raven is working on, and Raven thinks some of Abby’s stories about the New York state senate are too funny to be true. They’re not friends, necessarily, because Clarke would be horrified at the thought of her ex-girlfriend being her mother’s friend. But that really is what they are, just without the formality of the title.

The problem, in Raven’s opinion, is that Clarke was always closer to her dad. She loved both of her parents, but if she had the choice to deal with one parent over the other, she’d pick her dad. After her dad died, that wasn’t a choice anymore, and Clarke didn’t know how to deal with the differences between her parents. Abby is exact and precise, formulaic to a fault, but Clarke can’t color inside the lines at pain of death. They clash. It happens. Raven likes to think of herself as the happy medium between them: taking advantage of the rules, bending but not breaking.

But the point is: Raven likes Abby. Raven gets along with Abby. By sending Monty ahead, she was giving Clarke fair warning if the visit is a surprise, but she’s also getting some time with her friend.

“How’s therapy?” Abby asks as they meander towards the elevator.

“Therapeutic.” Raven shrugs. “I’ve gone from crutches to this setup. It’s a good change. A limp in the right direction.”

Abby laughs. “Are you back in school yet?”

“Not till Monday. I’ve been emailing my professors nonstop, making sure I can get back in class as smoothly as possible.”

“Good, that’s good.” They fall into a comfortable silence, reaching the elevator. There’s only one old, slow elevator that services all four floors of the building. Monty’s evidently in it, because when Abby hits the button, it buzzes feebly and nothing else happens.

“So what brings you to the Mount anyways?” Raven asks. “Business, pleasure?”

“Clarke invited me, actually.”

Raven raises her eyebrows. Clarke loves Abby, yeah, but not normally this much. Abby means well but oversteps with Clarke, and Clarke overreacts. She thinks Abby is infringing on her personal liberties. Clarke loves her mother, but she’s also scared of her. It’s hard on both of them. Knowing that, this is a bit of a plot twist. “She did?”

“I’m as surprised as you.”

“I doubt it. What’s the occasion?”

“She invited me to your performance in May, but I have another commitment that day and can’t make it. So she suggested I come to a practice instead.”

“Cool, you can be a focus group.” Raven smiles. “And you’re comfortable with her being in the band?”

“It was never the band, it was my daughter feeling like she had to lie to me about it.” The shadow of exhaustion flickers across Abby’s face. “I wouldn’t have been happy, she’s right, but I wouldn’t have been angry either. And if she’s spending my money, I think I deserve the truth.”

Raven nods. “That makes sense.” The elevator dings, and Abby helps her inside. “How’s New York? Legislate any good laws?”

“Absolutely none.” Abby hits the button for the third floor, and the doors slide closed. “Don’t go into politics, you’ll just get ulcers.”

“Why would I ever go into politics?”

“You’d make a good lawyer.”

Raven pulls a face. “I’d rather get hit by another car.”

Abby gives her a wry look. “Why do I get the feeling you’re only saying that because I’m the only one to hear it?”

“Because you didn’t see me in the hospital. Apparently, it was traumatic.”

“Clarke called you every day over break.”

“Clarke worries too much.” The doors open on the third floor, and Raven strides out, feeling steadier than she has in a long time. “All of them do. I’m managing fine.”

“Putting on a brave face fine or actually fine?”

Raven considers that. “Depends on the day,” she decides. “But pretending helps.”

“That it does. And today?”

“Today I’m actually fine.”

“That’s good.” They stop in front of Clarke’s door. “Do you still have a key?”

“Of course.” Raven fishes it out of her pocket with her free hand and unlocks the door. Abby holds it open for her, and Raven flashes her a smile as she limps in. “Who’s got my bass?”

“It’s by your stool,” Octavia answers, plucking out the melody to Style.

“Awesome.” Raven picks up her bass and settles in. “Octavia, that’s Abby, Clarke’s mom. Abby, this is Octavia Blake, our guitarist.”

Abby shakes Octavia’s hand. Monty waves at her from the keyboard.

“Hey, Abby,” Finn says, lifting a drumstick in greeting. “Clarke’s in her room, she’ll-”

“I’m here!” Clarke slips out of her room, beaming bright and sunny, and goes to hug her mom. “How was the drive?”

“Better than it’s been.” Abby gives her a squeeze and pulls back. “We can catch up later. First, I want to hear some of these songs.”

“Absolutely.” Clarke takes her position in the front of the band, brimming with excitement. “What should we start with?”

“Style,” Octavia suggests. “It needs the most work.

Clarke grins, and Raven feels relief sweep through her. Looks like everything’s okay.

“How fast?” Finn asks, twirling his drumstick.

“Let’s start at tempo,” Clarke decides. “It’ll be like a diagnostic. Then we can break it down if it needs it.”

Raven slings her bass around her neck. “Let’s go.”

Monty flips a switch on his keyboard. Octavia adjusts the pick between her fingers. Abby leans forward, eyes bright and proud.

Finn clicks his drumsticks, and Raven takes a deep breath, counts along with it - one, two three, four-and- and they’re off.

**  
**

 

 

 **theskypeople**  
Say hi to band mom @sengriffin, mother of our very own @cgriffn who visited our rehearsal tonight. Thanks, Sen. G! Hope you had fun!

bellblake, rockin_raven, sengriffin, and 42 others like this.

 **sengriffin** Thank you for the music, it was fantastic.  
 **therealjasperj** You guys have a political sponsor now? sweet.  
 **noteasybeing_green** @therealjasperj informally, yes.  
 **cgriffin** I have the best mom.  <3  
 **rockin_raven** and @sengriffin thanks for the ride home! have fun w/ clarke tomorrow!

**  
**

 

 

 **sengriffin**  
Spending the day in Virginia with my rock star in progress daughter @cgriffin. She grew up so fast.

rockin_raven, cgriffin, and 102 others like this.

 **rockin_raven** rock star in progress. i like that.  
 **8avia** C you should give me a tat like that, it’s awesome  
 **therealjasperj** just goes to show that #senatorsarepeopletoo  
 **sengriffin** My status has been taken over by college students.  
 **cgriffin** @sengriffin Mom, no, statuses are Facebook. This is just a photo.  
 **sengriffin** @cgriffin It’s a photo that informs people about my status. Ergo, a status.  
 **cgriffin** It’s hard to win arguments when your mom argues for a living.

**  
**

 

 

**APRIL 13**

 

They decide not to perform at Music Monday for the month. Raven gets tired performing too many songs in a row, and Style isn’t publicly presentable yet. They have bigger fish to fry.

Personally, Raven would be okay with doing Music Monday as a litmus test to see where they are, but Monty seems relieved to have the night off. Raven has to admit she is, too - even the thought of physically attending class again is both exciting and exhausting. Either way, Clarke and Finn are too busy being overprotective to let Raven go to Music Monday when she’s going to be so tired, and even Octavia seems wary at the thought of Raven returning to campus. People are worrying about her; it sucks, but it also doesn’t.

Monday itself is exhausting, naturally, but it’s nice to be back in class. There’s something that she prefers about being present in a classroom. Online learning just doesn’t match up. Monday night, Raven is just happy to be home.

“So is today a night in for you, then?” Raven asks Monty, drawing circles on the ground with her cane idly. “I can make grilled cheese.”

“Doesn’t that require standing by the stove?”

“It requires being in the kitchen. If there’s also a chair in the kitchen, it’s not like that’s cheating.”

Monty laughs. “As much as I’d love to do grilled cheese, I have plans.”

Plans? Monty never has plans. “Did Harper finally rope you into doing a vintage movie night with her?”

“No.” He pauses. “Well, not tonight. I’ve promised her one sometime this month, though.”

“Is it a Jasper night?”

“Nope. Two strikes.”

Hm. Raven has to pick carefully here. “Is it… a date?”

Monty snaps his fingers. “Got it in one. Well, in three.”

“Wait, seriously?” Monty doesn’t date people. It’s not a bad thing, it’s not a good thing, it just simply is. “With who?”

He smiles enigmatically. “Guess if you can.”

“It’s Miller, isn’t it.”

The smile drops off his face. “How did you know?”

“You’ve been pining for months, the both of you. You wouldn’t have said yes if it were anyone else.” Raven taps her cane against the floor. “Or asked anyone else. Whichever.”

“No, he asked me. He’s taking the night off so he can take me out.”

“Huh. That’s nice. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Going to the movies. Maybe dinner afterwards.”

Raven nods and goes back to her textbook. It’s quiet for a few seconds before Monty suddenly drops his phone. It clatters to the ground, and when she looks, he’s staring at it in horror. “Uh. Monty?”

“What the fuck do I wear,” he says, and he sounds so legitimately distraught that Raven has to stifle a laugh.

“You can wear exactly what you’re already wearing. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, or your money back.”

“You’re not paying me.”

“I’m paying rent. Is he picking you up?”

“Yup, in like ten minutes.”

Raven gives him a thumbs-up. “Do you need me to give a threatening roommate speech, or will Jasper have that covered?”

Monty chews on his lip. “Jasper doesn’t know about this yet,” he admits.

“What? Why not?”

“Because he’d brag about seeing it coming.”

“Well, yeah, but I did, too, I was just subtle about it.”

“He won’t be subtle.”

“Because he’s your best friend!” Raven throws a pencil at him. “Tell him about your goddamn date. He’ll be smug, but it's only because he’s happy for you.”

Monty shakes his head. “Not tonight. If it doesn’t work out-”

“Then you should tell him so he shuts up about it.” She grins, and he tentatively smiles back.

“You’re a lot better at this people thing than me.”

“Nah, you’re just out of practice. Jasper’s the people person out of the two of you, right? You didn’t have to be personable till you moved out.”

“Good point.” Monty slumps back in the armchair. “I’ll tell him after the date, how’s that?”

“Works for me.”

Monty plays Candy Crush on his phone for the next ten minutes. Raven doesn’t think he realizes that he’s tapping his foot, or that it gets more and more agitated as it gets closer to time. When there’s a knock on the door, he nearly knocks over the coffee table when he bounces upright.

“Easy there,” Raven says, running her finger along a line in her textbook. “Don’t break the furniture.”

Monty ignores her in favor of opening the door. “Hi,” he says, only slightly out of breath.

“Hey.” Miller sounds… well, honestly, happier than she’s ever heard him. Monty has that effect on most people, but it seems even more pronounced on Miller. “You ready to go?”

“Yep, ready. Raven, I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

Raven turns and points at him warningly. “You’d better.”

“Hi, Raven,” Miller says amusedly.

She moves her finger to point at him. “You hurt him, I hurt you. Got it?”

“I hurt him, you hurt me,” Miller repeats.

“Good.” She looks back at Monty. “Have fun. Use condoms.”

“Condoms, plural?” Monty makes a face. “Movie theater sex is only fun the first time.”

Raven shakes her head. She wishes she could say things like that with a straight face. “Get out of here, you nerd.”

“See you later tonight.” Monty grabs Miller’s hand - Miller looks almost flustered now, she notices amusedly - and tugs him out, closing the apartment door behind him.

Raven sighs and looks at her textbook. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight.”

Predictably, the textbook doesn’t answer. She sighs again. It’s not that she’s not happy for Monty, it’s just that they’re finally getting to a place where people can be around her without treating her like spun glass. Monty isn’t being careful with her anymore. Nobody is. She wants to celebrate that, but celebrating alone sucks. They need to all celebrate together. But how are they going to celebrate, throwing a party or something?

Wait.

Actually, that’s not a bad idea.

**  
**

 

 

To: Monty (6:54 PM)  
don’t reply if i’m interrupting the date but we should throw a party

From: Monty (8:35 PM)  
What kind of party?

To: Monty (8:37 PM)  
a “thank god we made it” party

To: Monty (8:38 PM)  
a “it’s the middle of the term and it’s the shittiest part, let’s live a little” party

To: Monty (8:40 PM)  
friends-only, small thing, whatever excuse we want to make

From: Monty (9:03 PM)  
When?

To: Monty (9:05 PM)  
how does fri sound?

From: Monty (9:13 PM)  
Works for me & Nate.

To: Monty (9:16 PM)  
ooh first name basis. nice. i’ll start planning now.

**  
**

 

 

To: Bellamy, Clarke, Finn, Harper, Jasper, Maya, Miller, Octavia (9:41 PM)  
hear ye hear ye, you all are formally invited to raven and monty’s “at least we’re not dead” party this friday starting at 6. there will be beer, tv, and some kind of food. come one, come all, celebrate making it this far through the year!

From: Finn (9:42 PM)  
that’s the most morbid party ever

From: Bellamy (9:43 PM)  
Have i ever been to your new apt? where is it?

From: Jasper (9:45 PM)  
Can I bring my Xbox?

To: Jasper (9:46 PM)  
w/ what games?

From: Jasper (9:47 PM)  
Would Rock Band be too on the nose?

To: Jasper (9:49 PM)  
jasper

To: Jasper (9:49 PM)  
please

To: Jasper (9:50 PM)  
for the love of all that’s holy

To: Jasper (9:50 PM)  
bring rock band

**  
**

 

 

 **millernathan**  
Date night. @noteasybeing_green

rockin_raven, therealjasperj, cestmayavie, and 26 others like this

 **haaaaaarper** please tell me you mean date as in romo dating  
 **therealjasperj** That’s a good picture of you, I’ll keep it for the wedding.  
 **noteasybeing_green** @haaaaaarper full romo.  
 **noteasybeing_green** @therealjasperj Do not.  
 **notfinncollins** niiiiiiiiiiiiice  
 **therealjasperj** @noteasybeing_green Fine, I’ll just tag everyone we know from high school. Starting with @itsvickiii  
 **noteasybeing_green** @therealjasperj DO NOT. Vicki can be the first and last.  
 **millernathan** @noteasybeing_green but what if i want to meet your high school friends?  
 **noteasybeing_green** @millernathan ……...maybe one day.  
 **itsvickiii** @noteasybeing_green your boyfriend’s cute omg!!  
 **haaaaaarper** @noteasybeing_green IT’S ABOUT TIME  
 **cgriffin** So how couple-y are you going to act starting now?  
 **millernathan** @cgriffin oh, vomit-worthy couple-y. gonna snuggle and call each other babe and love. make out in public.  
 **noteasybeing_green** @millernathan How sweet of you.  
 **notfinncollins** the worst part is, i’m not sure if they’re joking or not.

**  
**

 

 

**APRIL 17**

 

Harper is the first to the apartment, holding a bottle of wine and beaming sunshine at them. “I owe Monty a housewarming gift,” she explains before hugging Raven. “Congratulations on not being dead yet!”

“Thank you, it’s one of my greatest accomplishments.” Raven ushers her in. “So this is our place, that’s the armchair-”

“That’s my armchair,” Monty corrects her. “You don’t use it.”

Raven thinks that if she rolled her eyes much harder, she’d strain something. “Yeah, because you don’t let me.”

Harper immediately flops over into the armchair and waves up at Monty. “This is mine now.”

Monty plucks the bottle of wine out of her hand. “Then this is mine.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s the idea.” Harper raises her eyebrows. “I brought it for you.”

Monty wilts. “Oh. I mean, thanks, but now I have no leverage.”

“And that’s exactly how I like it.”

“Kids, behave yourselves.” Raven takes the wine from Monty and puts it on the kitchen counter. “Harper, we’re ordering a shit-ton of pizza, what do you want?”

“I want to see why the hell Monty and Finn keep talking about your grilled cheese.”

“Because they’re tasteless heathens?” Raven shakes her head. “Everyone has to leave if I’m doing grilled cheese. Nobody gets to find out my recipe.”

“Nope,” Monty says cheerfully. “I want to know.”

Harper smacks his arm. “Some of us haven’t gotten to eat it yet, Monty!”

There’s a knock on the door, and Raven silently thanks god for it as Monty answers it. It’s Bellamy, with Octavia trailing behind him.

“Hi, Blakes,” Raven says, opening the fridge.

“Hi, Reyes,” Octavia answers, pocketing her phone. “Beer?”

Raven plops a six-pack on the counter. “Start with one each, we don’t have enough for anyone to drink a lot. But we do have wine.”

Bellamy goes for the wine. “What kind of wine is this?”

“Uh, white?” Harper flops around on the armchair until she’s facing him. “I’m not really sure but the lady at Walgreens said it was good for parties.”

“You bought your wine from Walgreens?”

“Walgreens has good wine. Here, give me that.” Raven takes it and uncorks it. “We’re going to be drinking wine out of non-stemmed glasses today. Anyone want some?”

“Yes, please,” Harper says quickly. After a minute, Bellamy nods, too, and Raven gets to pouring.

Octavia pops the cap off her beer. “So what are we doing, other than hanging out and probably watching Finn start an argument?”

“Finn’s definitely going to start an argument sometime. Jasper’s bringing Rock Band, and after that we’re going to wing it.”

“Nice.”

“O,” Bellamy says slowly, “how do you know how to open a beer?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “It’s not that hard. I’ve done it before.”

“You’re not twenty-one yet.”

“Yeah, because you were twenty-one the first time you went to a party.”

“Nate’s here,” Monty says suddenly. “Which means Jasper and Maya are too, with Rock Band.”

“Ooooh, he’s Nate now?” Harper peers over the top of the armchair at Monty. “Can I call him Nate, too, or is that a strictly datefriend thing?”

“Datefriends only. Sorry, H.”

“Awww. But I'm glad you're dating.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute.” Raven grins. “I think Miller’s scared of me.”

“That’d be because you threatened to hurt him if he hurt me when he came to pick me up the first time.”

“And you didn’t say something threatening to Maya?”

Monty shuts up, which is another way of saying yes. Raven is suddenly intensely curious about what he said. She opens her mouth to ask, but then the door swings open.

“Raven, my favorite person,” Finn says, breezing in, “please tell me you have beer.”

“He had a bad day,” Clarke explains as she follows him in. She stops to kiss Raven on the cheek. “How’ve you been?”

“Clarke, you literally saw me yesterday. Not even twenty-four hours ago.”

“Band practice doesn’t count as hanging out.”

“Why not? We’re in the same place, doing the same things.”

“Those things are entirely goal-oriented. What’s for dinner?”

“Pizza. Which reminds me.” Raven raises her voice. “Hey, everyone tell me what you want on your pizza or you’re all getting anchovies.”

“But Maya actually likes anchovies,” Harper complains.

“She does not.” Finn makes a face. “Nobody likes anchovies. Or pineapple. You’d have to be a real heathen to like pineapple on your pizza.”

Clarke and Raven flip him off in unison. It’s a long-standing argument between them. Raven personally thinks that anyone who legitimately prefers white sauce to marinara has no room to complain about pizza heathens. Finn hates marinara; it’s why his spaghetti doesn’t have any. People think he’s a culinary genius or some shit, but no, he actually just hates marinara. Raven would tell Clarke, but Clarke likes both marinara and Finn’s spaghetti, so her complaints would be wasted.

“I’ve never had pineapple pizza,” Octavia muses. “It sounds like it could be good.”

“It is,” Raven says, at the same time that Finn says, “Don’t listen to her.”

Monty opens the door, apropos of nothing, and Jasper grins at him from the other side. “You’re psychic, aren’t you.”

“Yes,” Monty deadpans, moving out of the way.

“Hi, Jasper,” Raven says, looking at his setup. He’s carrying his XBox, some wires, and what looks like a mic. Behind him, Maya’s holding two guitars, and Miller has a drum set. “Look, everyone, the entertainment’s here.”

“Hooray.” Bellamy looks at Harper. “Your wine doesn’t suck.”

“Thanks.” Harper rolls her eyes. “That’s the best compliment.”

“Seriously, everyone text me what you want on your pizza so I don’t forget any of it, because I’m ordering it now.” Raven goes over to her laptop, already on the Domino’s page. “Guys. Tell me.”

“Wait, is everyone getting their own pizza?” Miller frowns. “That’s a lot of pizza.”

“Yeah, our plan is to steal all of your leftovers so we don’t have to go grocery shopping for another few days.” Monty grins at him. Miller sets the drum set down and slings an arm around Monty’s waist, looking distinctly more goofy than he did before. “Seriously, what do you want?”

Miller looks back at Raven. “Sausage and bell peppers?”

“You got it, boss.” She clicks the buttons and turns back. “Who’s next?”

“Pineapple and ham,” Clarke calls.

“Ditto,” Octavia says. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Two Hawaiians, no problem. Next?”

“Anchovies,” Maya says brightly. Finn starts gagging, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Right, because I’ve never heard that before.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t gag at the pineapple,” Raven admits.

**  
**

 

 

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
So @rockin_raven and @beingmontygreen are throwing an “At Least We’re Not Dead” party and I’ve decided to livetweet it. #ALWND

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@therealjasperj oh god, please don’t

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
@rockin_raven Too late, there’s already a hashtag, you can’t stop me #ALWND

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@therealjasperj nobody else is going to use the hashtag just give it up

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Pizza guy looks really relieved to see ten people eating all this food we ordered. #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Ten pizzas, some breadsticks, some lava cakes, some cheesy bread… #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Oh, and some beer already on the house, plus wine from @haaaaaarper. #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
And now the entertainment portion of our evening: actual rock band members playing Rock Band #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Because I brought the game, I’m going to sit this one out and commentate. Everyone else is splitting into teams. #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
Teams are decided. @bellblake and I are commentating the tournament. Five rounds, each team picks the other’s songs. #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
It’s @cestmayavie @rockin_raven @cgriffin @haaaaaarper vs @beingmontygreen @millernathan @notfinncollins @8avia #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
This is about to be intense, what do you say, @bellblake? #ALWND

 **Bellamy Blake** @bellblake  
@therealjasperj Can’t believe the actual band members didn’t form a super-team. #ALWND

 **Jasper Jordan** @therealjasperj  
@bellblake RIGHT?? They’d be unstoppable. also haha @rockin_raven I KNEW the hashtag was a good idea. #ALWND

 **Queen Raven** @rockin_raven  
@therealjasperj @bellblake traitor. we’re going to kick your sister’s ass.

 **Bellamy Blake** @bellblake  
@therealjasperj @rockin_raven and the trash talk begins. #ALWND

 

 

 

 **notfinncollins**  
i present to you: rock band queen @cestmayavie with princess @haaaaaarper and their knights @rockin_raven and @cgriffin. #theykickedourasses

therealjasperj, 8avia, bellblake, and 28 others like this

 **8avia** They’re killer queens.  
 **therealjasperj** if my girlfriend’s the queen does that make me the king?  
 **bellblake** @therealjasperj no, it makes you the queen’s boyfriend  
 **therealjasperj** @belblake damn  
 **millernathan** i demand a rematch  
 **cestmayavie** @millernathan fine, i’ll gladly kick your ass again.  
 **rockin_raven** loser has to admit on insta that the other is better  
 **millernathan** @cestmayavie you’re on

 

 

 

 **millernathan**  
It’s true: @cestmayavie IS the Rock Band queen. #allhail

cestmayavie, rockin_raven, therealjasperj, and 17 others like this

 **noteasybeing_green** at least you tried.  
 **millernathan** <3  
 **8avia** so what are we doing now that rock band’s done?  
 **notfinncollins** CSI marathon?  
 **cgriffin** @notfinncollins That is a terrible idea.  
 **cgriffin** We’re going to have a CSI marathon now aren’t we.  
 **rockin_raven** @cgriffin ofc we are.  
 **millernathan** @cgriffin Why is it a terrible idea?  
 **noteasybeing_green** @millernathan you’ll understand once we start.

**  
**

 

 

“It was the gardener,” Raven announces.

“Bull-fucking-shit,” Finn says, exactly like she knew he would. “It was the ex-wife.”

“The ex-” Raven glares at him, perched next to her on the arm of the couch. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, I think he’s onto something,” Bellamy interjects. “She’s definitely hiding something.”

“I’m trapped between two idiots,” Raven moans. See, this shit right here is why Clarke tried to ban CSI from their apartment, but CSI comes back. It always does. “Clarke, back me up here.”

“Sorry, Raven, but it was totally the ex-wife.”

“No way, Raven’s right,” Jasper insists. He and Maya, for reasons incomprehensible to Raven, are curled up on the floor beside the armchair, where Monty and Miller are doing their best to fit into a one-person seat. Harper is on the other side of the armchair, tapping her fingers on the floor. “The gardener is being so shady right now, it had to be him.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t stand to benefit,” Finn argues. “You know who did? The ex-wife.”

“The daughter gets benefits, though.” Maya nestles in closer to Jasper’s side. “And she was nicer to the gardener than the dad was.”

“Agreed.” Harper’s fingers drum decisively against the floor. “The gardener wants the daughter to inherit the property so his job doesn’t suck anymore.”

“Being a gardener for a rich family kind of sucks on principle. The ex-wife got financial benefits.” Bellamy shakes his head. “It’s simple math.”

“I agree,” Monty chips in. Miller gives him a scandalized look. “What? It’s got to be!”

Miller shakes his head, a tiny, fond smile playing across his lips. “No way. Team gardener, man. That dude’s a killer.”

“Based on what?” Monty laughs.

“He doesn’t have an alibi, it’s got to be him! The ex had an alibi.”

“The ex also had a motive.”

“I think you’re all wrong,” Octavia says without looking up from her phone. “It was the daughter.”

“There’s no fucking way,” Clarke starts, and the room immediately erupts into a babble of back-and-forth. Harper leans around the front of the armchair to high-five Maya. Clarke and Bellamy begin bickering immediately, Octavia between them looking like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

“See what you started?” Finn demands, poking Raven’s shoulder. She smiles and smacks his hand away. “We’re all fighting just because you thought it was the gardener.”

“It was the gardener!” she laughs.

Finn scrunches up his face. “Yeah, of course it was. Why would it be the person that would reap all the financial rewards?”

“You’re right, why would it be the person whose standard of living would be improved massively?”

Finn shakes his head, and Raven sighs. All three of her exes, allied against her. Clearly she needs to be more careful about who she dates.

**  
**

 

 

To: rreyes@mwu.edu  
From: atmonaghan@wvcsd.net  
Subj: Re: [No subject]

Raven,

Of course I remember you. How could I forget? I might’ve blown in like a hurricane, but you were one of the people who thrived in the aftermath. Yes, I’m still at AHS. The program is thriving - since you graduated, we’ve gotten more funding and more students. We’ve had a great year so far, and we plan on finishing strong with a visit to a jazz festival in Tennessee later this month.

As good as you were in jazz, a rock band sounds much more your speed. I’d love to hear you, live or in video or anything you can send me. Am I right in assuming that the roommate is Finn? He would be good in a rock setting. Either way, the two of you must still be in touch, you were practically inseparable in my class. Are you still dating, or has that ship sailed?

Farrah is doing very well, first grade is good for her. She’s one of the best in her class at addition. Charlie and I haven’t officially tied the knot, but only because the wedding is scheduled for August. Her practice is doing well, and she says hello. (Even my fiancee remembers you - you left a bigger impression than you think.)

If you come back, I hope you can come by and visit. You are always welcome back in that band room. Bring your band if you’d like. The kids would enjoy it.

How is school going for you? Are you still involved in mechanics? You were planning on mechanical engineering if I remember correctly - how has that worked out?

Looking forward to your reply,  
A. Monaghan

**  
**

 

 

When it turns out to be the daughter, Octavia is mostly gracious. She spends a lot of time mockingly consoling Bellamy, patting him on the shoulder and saying “there, there.” Monty and Miller both admit to liking each other’s theories, which is sickeningly sweet to watch. Harper moves over to sit by Octavia’s feet, demanding that Octavia teach her the ways of the ultimate crime show fan.

College Comp is in two weeks. Raven knows that. Fifteen days from now, they’re going to be in one of the most stressful situations of their lives. Considering how the last few weeks have been, that’s saying something.

But as she looks around the room, everyone leaning in to catch all the details of the next episode, all her band and their biggest fans, she knows they can handle it. They’ve come too far to fuck up now.

Finn squeezes her shoulder. “All right?” he murmurs.

Raven tangles her fingers with his and leans back. “Perfect,” she answers. And it is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no performances in this chapter, so no song links this time around. The final chapter will be out soon; till then you can come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://officialseancassidy.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/ofclseancassidy).


	4. Octavia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings apply for implied emotional abuse and slight (non-serious) physical violence. All song links will be at the end of the chapter.

 

**APRIL 30**

**The Sky People** @theskypeople  
Sound check day! T-minus two days to College Comp. Nice venue, right? pic.twitter/f378a2

 **Roma Hirsch** @romaforreal  
@theskypeople Damn, THAT’S where you’re performing?

 **Octavia Blake** @8avia  
@theskypeople @romaforreal it’s so cool.

 

 

 

“It needs more bass, I can barely hear it.” **  
**

Clarke turns to the sound tech. “Can you turn the bass up?”

The sound tech fidgets with the knobs and flashes a thumbs up. Raven starts playing something bright and jazzy.

Octavia lifts her phone back up, looking at the single audience member in the back of the stadium. “Better?”

“Better,” Bellamy agrees. “Also, O, you’re too loud.”

“Shh!” Octavia looks at Clarke, hoping she didn’t hear it, but Clarke is already turning back to the tech. She sighs. “There’s no such thing as too much guitar.”

Bellamy snorts. “Uh, yes, there is. And you’re it.”

Octavia flips him off with her free hand. “Can you see that from where you are?”

“Not clearly, but I know you’re flipping me off.”

Not for the first time, Octavia silently thanks God that Raven and the rest of the band made peace with Bellamy. She knew from the beginning that as long as the band was good people, Bell would help them out, and now here they are. He rented a van for the weekend so they could fit all their instruments and band members in the same space and save gas.

Finn was actually the one to suggest that Bellamy sit in the audience so they got an outside perspective on the band’s sound. (Eventually she’s going to have to find out when exactly her favorite coworker got a crush on her brother, because that shit’s just too Gossip Girl to let go.) Thankfully, Monty had suggested cell phones because knowing Bell he might’ve tried to shout back and forth to tell them what he thinks.

“Test it out,” Clarke suggests. Octavia sets her cell on the amp next to her and plays the beginning riff of Do I Wanna Know. It echoes through the stadium, and she has to fight down a cheer. Damn, but performing here is going to be so much fun.

Monty plays a couple of chords. “There’s good reverb in here.”

“Well, it is a stadium.” Raven pauses. “Events center. Whatever that is.”

“What events do they have in here?” Octavia wonders.

“Concerts and speaking engagements.” Monty starts playing something lazy and bright. “I came here for a campus visit once. Their orchestra was rehearsing. It was kind of amazing.”

“Here” is the mini stadium slash events center at Crewson University, a ridiculously wealthy school about forty minutes from Mount Weather. Every College Comp has been here since the birth of the competition, or at least as far back as Octavia can remember. It’s sound check day for The Sky People, which means for the next hour, the stadium is theirs.

Raven plays a quick tremolo on her bass and glances up. “Good?”

“I think so. Let’s run the chorus of Style again,” Clarke instructs. “We can adjust levels if we need to, and if not, we can run the program.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.” Finn salutes her with a drumstick. “Everyone set?”

“Set,” Monty says cheerfully.”

Octavia runs her thumb along the edge of her pick. “Set.”

Clarke nods, and Raven glances back at Finn. “Take it away, little drummer boy.”

“Fuck you!” Finn lifts his sticks and clicks them together four times, and Octavia hits her first chord with practiced ease. Clarke starts singing, and they play through the chorus, and Octavia fumbles a couple times but she’s not worried. (It’s two days before the biggest performance of her life, she’s allowed to play one wrong note. Probably.)

They come to a halt after the chorus, and Clarke leans into the mic. “How do we sound, Bellamy?”

Bellamy starts waving one arm up and down, which really isn’t much of an answer. Octavia picks up her phone. “Bell?”

“Can you not see the thumbs up?”

“About as well as you could see me flip you off.”

“Good point.” She can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes her smile right back. “You guys sound great. Run it a couple of times.”

Octavia grins at Clarke. “You heard the man, let’s-”

“Wait,” Raven says quickly. Octavia turns around, surprised, and sees Raven white-knuckling her bass, leaning heavily to her right. “Can we take a break?”

“Get a stool,” Monty says tiredly. Octavia heard part of an argument between them, but she’d bet they’ve been fighting this fight for a day or two.

“Absolutely not,” Raven grits out. “I’m not sitting for our set.”

“We’re not asking you to sit for our whole set,” Finn says cajolingly. “Maybe one song.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not going to be the only one who sits for one song.”

“Raven, can you even stand for the whole set?”

“Yes,” Raven says so quickly that Octavia is certain it’s a lie. “No problem.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “We’ve been warming up for ten minutes and you need a break.”

“Quick break!”

“Sit for Jet Pack Blues,” Monty suggests. “It’s basically a ballad, you only play for two thirds of it.”

“Monty, do you know how fucking ridiculous it would look if I were the only one who sat down for one song?”

“I’ll sit with you,” Octavia offers.

Raven glares at her. “I don’t need a pity-sit.”

“It’s not a pity-sit.” Octavia gestures at the setup. “Look, we’ve got the whole V-shape going on, right? Clarke on point, Monty and Finn in the back, and us two guitars in the middle. It’s got symmetry. If we both sit, we get the symmetry, you get a break. It’d be fine.”

Raven’s eyes narrow. Octavia lifts her chin. It’s a good idea, and she knows it, just as much as she knows that Raven really does need a break between songs. It’s bad enough that she won’t take the cane on stage with her; she can’t imagine the war that must’ve taken place to get her to wear the brace while they perform. But this is worth arguing about.

At last, Raven blows a gusty sigh between her teeth. “Just one song?”

“Just one song.”

Clarke looks at the sound tech. “Is there any way we can do that? Can we set up a couple of stools?”

The tech nods and picks up a walkie-talkie. Octavia does her best not to look smug.

“Change in plans?” Bellamy says.

Clarke gestures at Octavia, who obediently holds her phone out. “Your sister’s pretty smart, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing one of you is,” Raven adds cheerfully. Up in the stands, Bellamy holds up an arm again, but Octavia’s willing to bet he’s not giving them a thumbs-up this time. “Aw, are you waving at us?”

Someone small and busy-looking carries out a  stool and sets it next to Raven’s amp before hurrying away. Raven surveys it, unimpressed, before sighing and sitting down on it. Octavia glances over her shoulder to meet Finn’s eyes; he mouths _thank you_ at her.

“We should go through Jet Pack, while I’m sitting,” Raven decides.

Octavia hangs up the phone and slips it into her pocket. The same busy person carries out another stool, and she settles in quickly. “We good to go, boss-lady?”

Clarke nods, and Octavia runs her thumb along her pick before sitting back and adjusting it. Rehearsal is one of her favorite times because she never feels more focused. This is like the average rehearsal on steroids. It’s kind of amazing. She wishes it would never end.

 

 

 

 **bellblake**  
It’s all part of their process, they swear. @theskypeople #twodaystotheshow

therealjasperj, romaforreal, millernathan, and 18 others like this

 **therealjasperj** What are they trying to do?  
 **bellblake** O and R had a guitar battle.  
 **romaforreal** but, like, lightsaber-style, not sick-shredding style?  
 **8avia** @romaforreal we should get lightsabers in the library  
 **romaforreal** @8avia that’d be counterproductive  
 **8avia** @romaforreal we don’t do much to begin with though

 

 

 

“Is that your whole set?” their sound tech asks nervously.

“Uh, yeah, three songs, like required.” Raven drums her fingers against the body of her bass. “Why, what’s the problem?”

The tech’s mouth thins into a line. “Twelve to fifteen minutes of music, like required?”

Octavia’s stomach drops. Style is four minutes if they go slowly, but Blues and Burn are three minutes each, tops, and she doesn’t need to be a math genius to know that’s not quite twelve minutes.

“Shit,” Clarke mutters, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Could we do something between songs? Talk to the crowd or something?”

“It has to be twelve minutes of music. Sorry.”

Octavia twists her pick around in her hand. They’ve come so far, it’s two fucking days until they perform, and they’re about to get sunk on a technicality. This can’t happen.

“We could change to longer songs?” Monty suggests.

Clarke shakes her head. “Do I Wanna Know would add maybe a minute at most. Not enough to change what we’ve been practicing.”

“You have two days,” the tech says apologetically. “You’re not the only ones having this problem, you know.”

Octavia thinks that’s probably not true, and most people are smart enough to take the rules into account when planning their sets. But then, Clarke and Raven are two of the smartest people she knows, and neither of them thought of it. Maybe it’s a common mistake.

Clarke sighs. “Well, we’ve still got twenty minutes. Let’s run it one more time.” It sounds a little bit like admitting defeat, but Octavia’s not about to say that, and she knows Clarke won’t either. It’s not defeat. It’s just carrying on.

 

 

 

Bellamy’s van is nice. Perfectly respectable, as far as rental vans go. There are no questionable stains or smells or anything. It’s a decent size and fits all six of them easily. Finn’s drums fit in the back, and thankfully the venue provided amps and mics so they only have to worry about two guitars and a keyboard. It’s an easy fit.

The best thing about it, as far as Octavia’s concerned, is the fact that she gets automatic dibs on riding shotgun. Being the driver’s sister has its perks. Finn, Raven, and Clarke all end up squabbling in the backseat while Monty plays Candy Crush and interjects occasionally. Octavia’s not really sure what they’re talking about, but she thinks it has to do with Joss Whedon.

Bellamy elbows her shoulder lightly. “So what are you going to do about your set?”

“What am I going to do?” She frowns. “Uh, bribe the officials at Ark so we get a pass?”

“Don’t do that, you’re a broke college student.”

“I prefer starving artist.”

“Bullshit,” he says fondly. “I wouldn’t let you starve. You can think of something, right? It’ll take your mind off your stage fright.”

“Stage fright?”

“I’ve never heard you miss so many chords before.”

Octavia scoffs. “Flubbing a handful of notes doesn’t mean I have stage fright.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bellamy’s eyes are fixed solidly on the road. “The fact that I could see you playing with your pick, even from the back of the stadium? That means you have stage fright.”

Shit. She’d forgotten that he knew that was a nervous tic. She avoids it when she can, she doesn’t like the way it makes her fingers feel, but something about the edge of the pick wakes her up. “Stage fright is a strong word,” she hedges.

“No shame in it.”

“Maybe a little shame.”

“Some of the best performers have anxiety.”

“Stage fright is not anxiety.”

Bellamy hums noncommittally. “Situational anxiety?”

“You just made that up.”

“But it’s how you feel, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Octavia does not say. “Shut up and drive,” she does say.

“It’s okay to be nervous-”

“Bull-fucking-shit Book should’ve died,” Finn explodes. Monty winces.

“Yeah, I just tend to ignore Serenity,” Bellamy adds, and Octavia silently thanks God that he’s not on her case anymore.

“You can’t ignore Serenity,” Clarke splutters. “That’s- there’s- Raven!”

“Whedon’s a piece of shit” is Raven’s contribution. Octavia high-fives her for it, and that’s that.

 

 

 

From: Lincoln (8:27 PM)  
Home yet?

To: Lincoln (8:29 PM)  
Getting close. skype in 20?

From: Lincoln (8:30 PM)  
It’s a date.

 

 

 

“Play longer songs.” **  
**

“Can’t, we don’t know any of the others as well.”

“Play them slower.”

“That’s the cheap way out. Besides, they’re all fast songs.”

“You’re chewing on your hair again.”

Octavia glances down at her hand and hopes she’s not blushing. Childhood habits, right? She used to do it whenever she was thinking about something. Now her boyfriend has seen her do it multiple times. It’s charming, she’s sure. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Any time.” Lincoln smiles warmly at her, and even though it’s grainy and three thousand miles away, Octavia can’t help but smile right back at him. “What if you put guitar solos at the end of every song?”

“Now there’s a plan I can get behind.”

Lincoln laughs, and Octavia’s chest twists up. Skype is a modern marvel and it does miracles for this relationship, but it’s no substitute for seeing Lincoln in person. He moved to Portland ten months ago and most days Skype is enough. Today it isn’t.

“What time do you perform?”

“Nine o’clock on the dot.”

“Well, you have…” Lincoln leans in, peering at the clock on his computer screen. “Fifty-one hours. You can come up with something.”

“Forty-eight hours. Portland is three hours off, remember?”

He shakes his head. “I think Virginia’s three hours off.”

“East coast is better, that’s why we get all the live TV.”

“No way. West is best, O.”

“Hear, hear,” Fox says as she comes in, closing the door behind her.

“Traitor,” Octavia mutters, even though she’s really not. Fox is from California, but she’s the most tightly-wound person Octavia has ever met. She’s the anti-stereotype.

Lincoln laughs. “Hi, Fox.”

Fox leans in over Octavia’s shoulder. “Hi, Lincoln! How’s our country’s better half?”

“You live in Virginia!”

“But my heart belongs to the Pacific, you know that.”

“And I say again: traitor.”

“Portland’s great, thanks,” Lincoln answers. He loves Fox, even though he’s never met her in person. Octavia’s just grateful that her new roommate and boyfriend get along. “How are your classes?”

“Finals are in two weeks and I’m already stressed. But at least I’m going to a cool concert this weekend!” Fox pats Octavia’s shoulder and goes to flop on her bed. “You can keep talking, if you want, but I’m going to sleep.”

“Is she really?” Lincoln cranes his neck, like if he just looks through the camera at the right angle he can see Fox. “Isn’t it only 9:30 your time?”

“Long day,” Fox says, muffled by her pillow. Octavia twists her monitor around so it’s pointing at Fox, and Lincoln laughs. Fox points at them without lifting her head. “That’s rude.”

“I’m sorry for your long day,” Lincoln says, sounding legitimately contrite. “I hope you sleep well.”

“She’ll fall asleep immediately,” Octavia predicts, but it’s a total lie. Fox is a freakishly light sleeper, and staying on Skype will just keep her up. “Still…”

Lincoln makes a face that’s a cross between a grimace and sympathy. “Texting is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. You probably have homework that you’re ignoring anyways.”

“I do not.” She does. Not a lot, but some.

“Of course not. Get your phone, we can text.”

Octavia smiles apologetically. “Thanks. And sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Lincoln smiles, the kind of smile that makes Octavia miss him, like a limb, like something she didn’t realize she couldn’t live without. “Do your homework.”

“Fine,” Octavia sighs, but she knows that he’ll text her the whole time to distract her from how much she despises calculus. “But sometime this weekend we’ll have a real conversation.”

“Whatever hoops I have to jump through, I’ll make it happen,” Lincoln says solemnly. Octavia manages a smile before ending the call and dragging a hand down her face. They never say goodbye, but it hurts just as much anyways.

“I didn’t mean to make you hang up,” Fox says, voice small.

Octavia doesn’t sigh in exasperation but she halfway wants to. “This has happened before, remember?”

“And I always feel bad.”

“And I’d be a shitty roommate if I kept talking to my boyfriend when I knew it kept you awake.”

“Yeah, well.” Fox rolls onto her back. “Hey, can I borrow your phone really quick?”

Octavia tosses her phone over, and Fox catches it. “What do you need?”

“I started getting texts from this random number, and I wanted to see if it was in your phone.” She makes a face as she starts tapping Octavia’s screen. “I hate getting wrong number texts.”

#### “Same. Any luck?”

“Nope. Here, catch.” Fox tosses her phone back. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Course you are. G’night, Fox.”

“Night, O.” Fox rolls over and burrows her head in her pillows. Octavia unfolds herself from her bed and flicks the lights off, then flips her bedside lamp on. She has enough light to do her homework, but not enough to wake up Fox.

Her phone lights up with a text, and she smiles slightly. She loves Skyping with Lincoln, even though they can’t do it often, but texting is a close second. She’d text him all the time if they both could. And she can now, so why not?

It’s not the same as seeing him, but ten months is almost long enough to desensitize her. Almost.

 

 

 

**MAY 1**

 

 **foxfawkesfox**  
sleeping beauty!! gonna have a hell of a day with @8avia but she doesn’t know it yet ;D

stellarsterling, bellblake, monroe_rumkowski, and 9 others like this

 **bellblake** Please don’t hurt my sister.  
 **monroe_rumkowski** You didn’t tell her yet?  
 **monroe_rumkowski** And @bellblake she’s safe with us, don’t worry. I don’t think she’s awake.  
 **foxfawkesfox** @bellblake i would NEVER. D:  
 **foxfawkesfox** and she’s not awake yet but she will be soon! we’re gonna have a blast!

 

 

 

Octavia does not wake up to her alarm, which is not good.

She went to bed at a pretty normal time - 2 AM is perfectly respectable, honestly, especially when she doesn’t have class until 9 - so she’s either up really early or really, really late.

“Surprise!” Fox says cheerfully. Octavia sits bolt upright, hair flying in front of her face as she tries to glare at Fox, seated at the foot of her bed. “You’re taking the day off.”

Octavia blinks very slowly, trying to parse what she means. “...I’ll pass.”

“No passing! You dragged me out of here last finals week, remember?”

Octavia does remember. She also remembers how Fox survived for about three days before that on Red Bull, coffee, and willpower, without coming out of the room other than for class. She had to enlist Monroe to drag Fox out, but it’d been worth it. “This isn’t finals week, Fox, it’s not even close.”

“But this is your finals week, right? Metaphorically speaking?” Now Fox looks worried. “You can miss your classes today, right? I mean, I kind of turned off your alarm to make sure you got enough sleep-”

“You what?” Octavia grabs at her nightstand for her phone and picks it up. It’s 10:51. Ten-fucking-fifty-one. Her class is already over. “Fox!”

“It was Sterling’s idea,” Fox says quickly. “He and Monroe and I, we all think that you need to de-stress before tomorrow. Like how marathon runners take a day off before they do a marathon.”

“So you turned my alarm off?”

“Well, you’re not going to get enough sleep tonight, so we wanted to make sure you did last night.” Fox lifts her chin. “Now get dressed. We’re meeting Monroe and Sterling for lunch, and then we’re taking you into town.”

“To do what?”

“To have fun! You’re always working and rehearsing and studying, and yeah, those are important, but so is taking a day off.”

The thing is, for all that Fox looks like she’s fifteen, she gets really, really intense when she has a plan. And right now, she has a plan. Besides, it’s not like Octavia can rewind time and go to class anyways, right?

“What kind of fun?” she says cautiously.

Fox’s face lights up.

 

 

 

Octavia is picky about who she’s friends with. She’s not antisocial, not at all. She likes people, people like her, everything works out. It’s just that she’s selective about who she wants to see her at her potential worst. She’s a pretty good judge of character, mostly. (The entirety of A-Bomb was the exception to this rule. She thought they were a bunch of good guys, and they turned out to be total dicks and a shitty band. Joining another band had been pretty scary, but it was worth it, in the end.)

Fox is not the roommate Octavia would’ve picked for herself. Fox is sweet and determined and puts a lot of pressure on herself. Fox transferred to the Mount from an uber-competitive school in California. Fox wanted to be closer to her cousin Monroe, who mixes the best drinks Octavia has ever had, and so she moved to Virginia. Fox seems like she’s low-key, but after the finals debacle, Octavia knows that she’s perpetually stressed and just freakishly good at hiding it.

Still, Fox is good people, and Octavia knows it. One time during an on-campus movie night somebody tried to grab Octavia’s shoulder without her permission, and Fox dislocated his jaw and claimed self-defense. It was pretty cool.

Which is all really a long-winded way of saying: Octavia is picky about people, and she might not have picked Fox, but she’s glad that Fox picked her. She’s also glad that Fox’s people picked her. Sterling, one of Fox’s classmates, is alternately clueless and whip-smart, with seemingly nothing in between. He also has hilarious stories about growing up in a ridiculously wealthy neighborhood and has the perfect comedic timing to tell them. Monroe - well, she dated Bellamy, which speaks poorly to her taste, but Octavia likes her anyways. She’s the epitome of “do no harm, take no shit,” and that’s worth admiring.

With the exception of Bellamy and the band, Octavia definitely spends most of her time with Fox, Monroe, and Sterling. They’re fun, what can she say? Monroe is the oldest of them all, has lived in the Mount the longest, and knows all the cool local-ish places in town, so she’s a blessing to have around. Case in point: lunch.

“My ex used to work here,” Monroe explains from across the booth. “Ze turned out to be crude and super immature, and we didn’t break up well, but ze made a damn good pastrami sandwich. It doesn’t taste the same since ze graduated.”

“This place is a hole in the wall,” Sterling marvels. “You’re sure it’s good?”

It’s kind of a dump, Octavia has to admit. It’s dingy and poorly-lit, and not in the atmospheric way that Grounders is, in the “please support us by giving lightbulbs” way. They’re also the only people in the entire place.

Monroe gives Sterling a Look, and he silently concedes the point.

Fox beams. “So, Octavia, none of us have seen you perform yet, what’s your band like?”

Octavia considers it for a minute. “Loud,” she decides.

“The music or the people?”

“Both.”

“Then I’m sure you fit right in,” Sterling says brightly.

Octavia elbows his ribs, hard, and Monroe smiles wryly. “He’s not wrong, though, is he?”

“No, but he’s still a little shit.”

“I’ve seen your pictures on Insta,” Fox says. “You have a good color scheme.”

Monroe raises her eyebrows. “Color scheme?”

“Yeah, here.” Fox pulls out her phone and starts tapping on the screen. “They’re red and black, it’s cool.”

“I thought you were The Sky People, why not blue?”

“It was red before we were The Sky People.” Octavia actually doesn’t know what their name had been before The Sky People. She doesn’t even know where their name came from. It sounds cool, though, so she’ll take it. “I’m not sure I like my outfit, though.”

“You could always wear different clothes,” Sterling suggests. “It’s not like you have to wear a costume every time, is it?”

“Well, no, but there’s only so much I have that fits the look.”

“Here!” Fox turns her phone to Monroe, then Sterling. “Full-band photo.”

“Who’s who?” Sterling takes Fox’s phone and peers at it. “The blonde one’s cute.”

“That’s Clarke, our lead singer. Her girlfriend also thinks she’s cute.”

Sterling’s face falls, and Octavia pats him on the shoulder consolingly. One of the first things he’d told her when he met her was that he was, quote, “really fucking aromantic” and that he was on an eternal quest for an equally aro girl to take home to meet his parents so they’d get off his case about meeting a nice girl. He hasn’t had any luck yet.

“Wait, let me see again.” Monroe takes Fox’s phone and makes a disapproving noise. “O, you can’t keep wearing those shoes.”

“I know,” Octavia sighs. She loves her flats, but that dress just screams for boots. Really tall boots. God, she wishes she had the money to get really tall boots.

“What’s wrong with them?” Fox looks closer at the screen. “Those are the cute flats, right? The really comfy ones?”

“Yeah, but they’re not… rock star.” Sterling spreads his hands out to emphasize his point. “Monroe’s right, we’ve got to fix this.”

“We?” Octavia would press that train of thought further, but then their sandwiches get there, and Octavia’s mouth is watering already just looking at her reuben.

“Food first, shoes later,” Monroe decides, reaching for her pastrami. “And other things in between.”

 

 

 

 **8avia**  
I don’t normally instagram my food but this sandwich deserved it. #loveagoodreuben

haaaaaarper, monroe_rumkowski, bellblake, and 41 others like this

 **therealjasperj** That looks good. Like, really, really good.  
 **bellblake** Agreed w/ Jasper.  
 **8avia** it was a masterpiece. @monroe_rumkowski proved once again that she knows the best restaurants.

 

 **foxfawkesfox**  
movies w/ the squad!! @8avia @monroe_rumkowski @stellarsterling #nofilter #squadgoals #lovethesekids

8avia, bellblake, stellarsterling, and 11 others like this

 

 **stellarsterling**  
the gang's back  & better than ever! #shoppingspree

monroe_rumkowski, melbell, and 4 others like this

 **8avia** wait, shopping?  
 **stellarsterling** oops. spoiler alert.

 

 

 

“I can’t.” Octavia shakes her head. “No.” **  
**

“Come on!” Fox leans against her shoulder, pouting up at her.

Sterling leans in on her other side. “You’ve got to, O.”

Octavia looks at Monroe beseechingly, but she just shrugs. “Do you like them?”

That’s the thing: the boots in front of her are gorgeous. They’re skintight, they’re thigh-high, they’re jet-black faux leather, they have shiny red soles, and they are absolutely sinful. What’s more, they’re exactly what her concert outfit needs. They are, in a word, perfect.

“I love them,” she admits. “But my wallet won’t.”

Monroe looks at the price tag and raises her eyebrows. “They’re not as much as you think.”

“Try the boots,” Sterling insists. “Put them on.”

“Put them on!” Fox cheers.

Octavia sighs gustily, hoping that tells them exactly how much she’s suffering by putting on the pretty, pretty boots. “If I can’t afford them, I’m holding you all personally responsible.”

Fox shoves her at the boots. “Go, go, go.”

The boots fit perfectly, because of course they do, and they look damn good. Sterling wolf-whistles appreciatively as she stretches her legs out. They come up a few inches over her knees, and the heels are glossy and sharp, and if Octavia could fall in love with a pair of shoes, it would be these shoes.

Fox grabs Sterling’s hand and coos, “They look so pretty!”

“You look damn fine,” Sterling agrees.

Monroe picks up the box that the shoes came in. “Do you like them?”

“Like I said before.” Octavia turns her ankle around, admiring how sleek her legs look. The boots practically start where the dress ends, it’ll be perfect. “I love them.”

“Then it’s settled. They’re yours.”

Octavia’s breath catches in her throat. She stares up at Monroe. “Wait-”

“Surprise!” Fox claps her hands together. “It’s your combination birthday-slash-congratulations-on-being-a-rock-star present.”

“One pair of boots, courtesy of your favorite friends.” Sterling pulls out his wallet. “Don’t worry about money, just worry about how smokin’ hot your legs will look in those.”

Octavia gapes at him. “Sterling-”

“You deserve good boots, O, and you’re gonna get them.”

“I can’t make you pay for them!”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re volunteering.” Monroe picks up Octavia’s sandals, discarded on the floor. “Put these back on and we’ll get you checked out.”

“Guys.” Octavia hopes her voice isn’t as choked as she suspects it is. “Thank you. So much.”

“Thanks for the concert tomorrow.” Fox pats her on the shoulder. “We love you, O. You’re going to kick ass, and you deserve the boots to do it in.”

 

 

 

 **8avia**  
In love. #boots #fashion #thebestgiftever from @monroe_rumkowski @stellarsterling @foxfawkesfox

cestmayavie, foxfawkesfox, rockin_raven, and 28 others like this

 **rockin_raven** holy SHIT those boots are fine  
 **8avia** @rockin_raven right?? i love them so much  
 **noteasybeing_green** Very, very nice. Raven’s cooing at her phone.  
 **rockin_raven** no shame, those boots are worth cooing over  
 **notfinncollins** pls tell me you’re wearing these tomorrow  
 **8avia** @notfinncollins of course.

 

 

 

From: Bell (7:21 PM)  
remember to eat dinner

To: Bell (7:24 PM)  
I’m not a child

From: Bell (7:26 PM)  
you forgot, didn’t you

To: Bell (7:49 PM)  
Maybe

To: Bell (7:50 PM)  
Love you

From: Bell (7:53 PM)  
Love you too

 

 

 

To: Lincoln (9:28 PM)  
Skype?

To: Lincoln (9:52 PM)  
Helloooooo?

From: Lincoln (10:41 PM)  
Sorry love, working late tonight, can’t get on.

From: Lincoln (10:43 PM)  
Good night, miss you xoxo

 

 

 

Fox is at Monroe’s for the night, just because Octavia won’t be able to sleep and doesn’t want to keep her up. Octavia knows that if Fox were here she’d be willing to talk, or at least listen to her babble nervously. As it is, she apparently can’t talk to Lincoln, and she doesn’t want to admit to Bellamy that she’s nervous after all.

Her first line of defense is homework, but she has no calculus because she missed the class, and everything else is just crunch-time studying for finals, and she doesn’t have to do that yet. Her second plan is watching TV, and that eats an hour or so, watching an old episode of Criminal Minds to take her mind of things. But at the end of it all, she needs to talk. She can feel it, bubbling up inside her, and she knows who she has to talk to.

There’s a photo on the edge of her desk. It’s framed, the only framed thing in the entire room. She’s fifteen in it, a few years more naive and happier, kissing her mother on the cheek. Her mom is beaming at the camera. It was her fortieth birthday. They were out for dinner. Bellamy came back home to surprise her for it.

“Hi, Mom,” Octavia murmurs, picking up the frame and cradling it in her hands. It’s hard, talking to her like this. They hadn’t caught the cancer in time to save her, and Octavia doesn’t resent the doctors for that, but she resents the hell out of God for taking her away. Her mom wouldn’t want that, but it’s been three years and Octavia’s not sure it’ll ever stop hurting.

“My competition is tomorrow. The one for my rock band. We’re pretty good, you’d like us.” At least, she hopes so. Her mom’s taste in music was vast and varied, and some of it was rock. “Bell’s been helping out. I think it’s partly because he has the hots for our drummer, but mostly because of me.”

But she can’t talk about the band without remembering that they’re probably screwed. Clarke promised to text as soon as they had a way around the time limit, but she hasn’t said anything yet, so they’re still missing a solution.

“Ugh, Mom, what are we going to do?” She pushes out of her desk chair and sits on her bed, settling back against her wall. “We need two more minutes of music, but we can’t change our songs.”

She thinks about her mom next to her, stroking her hair, and it’s like a knife to the fucking ribs. Her mom was her support system. She and Bellamy were her best friends and she wouldn’t have it any other way. When Octavia announced that she was sick of playing the violin and wanted to learn the guitar, Bellamy bought her Rosie and her mom found her a teacher. Every idea Octavia had, she had backup for. Maybe it’s fitting that she can’t have ideas, now that she doesn’t have her backup.

“Lincoln said we should just add guitar solos to all the songs, but I don’t think that’d work. Not like that.” She frowns. “Maybe he’s on the right track, though. We need to make them longer, we can add music. We can add another chorus in all of them?”

“Come on, baby,” her mother’s voice says in her ear, and tears well up in Octavia’s eyes. “You can do better than that.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. Longer songs. What can they make longer? “Burn It Down and Style both have little dips, right? Slower parts? We can make those longer.”

“And what will you do when you make them longer?”

“We can… sing? Do crowd sing-alongs?” She shakes her head. Not enough people know Burn It Down to make that work.

“You’re on the right track, O. What about the crowd?”

The crowd. They can’t sing, they probably can’t talk, but they can listen. It’s what they’re there for. They’ll listen when the band plays-

“-or when we talk,” Octavia blurts out. Talking to the crowd. Shit, it’s so simple, why didn’t she think of it before? They can just talk to the crowd. “Mom, you’re-”

A figment of her imagination.

Right.

“A genius,” she finishes. Pretends she can feel her mother’s fingers carding through her hair. Wishes she could remember what perfume her mom used to wear.

She always did better when her mom was there. It’d be nice to have her there for this.

 **  
**  


**MAY 2**

 

To: Clarke (12:04 AM)  
So hypothetically

From: Clarke (12:05 AM)  
???

To: Clarke (12:07 AM)  
If we need to extend the songs

To: Clarke (12:08 AM)  
Could we use the dips in burn/style & make them longer?

From: Clarke (12:10 AM)  
Make the slow parts longer?

To: Clarke (12:10 AM)  
And we can talk to the crowd

To: Clarke (12:11 AM)  
Introduce ourselves, do the rock star thing

From: Clarke (12:13 AM)  
Oh my god.

From: Clarke (12:14 AM)  
You’re a genius.

To: Clarke (12:15 AM)  
It’s doable?

From: Clarke (12:16 AM)  
Absolutely.

 

 

 

Group chat: TSP <3

From: Clarke (12:21 AM)  
Last-minute practice tomorrow so we can extend our set. Meet at 4, Finn will make dinner and we’ll drive over together. Come already dressed.

From: Monty (12:23 AM)  
We got a solution?

From: Clarke (12:24 AM)  
I think so.

From: Raven (12:26 AM)  
kickass.

 

 

 

To: Bell (12:31 AM)  
New plan: rehearse @ 4, F’s making dinner, leaving together afterwards

From: Bell (12:33 AM)  
You want lunch beforehand? my treat.

To: Bell (12:34 AM)  
Yes please <3

From: Bell (12:36 AM)  
I’ll pick you up at noon, I’ll do your hair for the concert.

To: Bell (12:37 AM)  
<3 <3 <3

From: Bell (12:39 AM)  
Now go to sleep, you need it

 

 

 

Octavia doesn’t go to sleep. At least, not immediately. Call it adrenaline or pre-performance jitters or whatever else, she doesn’t have a name for it other than “it’s the wee hours of the morning and I’ve never felt more awake.” All said and done, she manages to fall asleep after around 4 AM. And then around 6. And 7:15. And 9.

Around eleven, her eyes fly open and she knows she won’t be able to get back to sleep. It’s the morning. Of the concert. College Comp. The most important performance of her life.

“Shit,” she says, lying on her back, facing the ceiling. No pressure, right? No pressure at all.

Last year, around this time, she quit A-Bomb. It was a spectacular fight that started with Diggs pushing her into a corner, and all of the self-defense lessons kicked in. Next she knew he was on the ground and she was shouting. They were a good band, but Atom wasfrighteningly intense about their music. He liked to shout abuse - not often at her, especially not when they were dating, but at the others. What Atom held back, Diggs always let fly. She never liked Diggs. Putting him on the ground was one of the most satisfying moments of her life.

A-Bomb was shitty, no doubt about it. She didn’t blame Bell for wanting to check out her new band - he’d almost hunted down Diggs to kick his ass when she told him what happened. She was scared shitless when Finn invited her to join his band. Finn didn’t seem like a bad person, but Atom hadn’t either. A-Bomb was a pressure cooker of stress - who was to say The Sky People wouldn’t be one too?

Man, was she happy she’d been wrong about that.

The thing is, just because it’s not high-pressure all the time doesn’t mean it’s never high-pressure. Case in point: there’s a record deal on the line. A record deal that could go to someone else if Octavia screws up her part. It’s not very likely, but she’d still rather not risk it.

Quitting made sense, when she didn’t think about it too much. It’d been out of fear and nerves more than logic, but she thought she was right to be afraid. A-Bomb was never more intense than before a gig, and The Sky People were heading for a hugely important gig, and she couldn’t deal with that again. She couldn’t imagine anyone in the band shouting abuse if she missed a chord, but she couldn’t have imagined Atom doing it at first. She would rather leave than face that again.

And now she’s here, lying on her bed, getting ready to compete. Against every odd in the book, she’s here. And she’s okay.

 

 

 

 **8avia**  
Sibling lunch date! @bellblake #bestbrother

bellblake, rockin_raven, stellarsterling, and 21 others like this

 **millernathan** Shit, that looks good.  
 **monroe_rumkowski** Did you go back to the sandwich cafe?  
 **8avia** @monroe_rumkowski yup! Bell had never been before.  
 **bellblake** That was a good lunch. Thanks for introducing it to us, M  
 **notfinncollins** you should take me sometime

 

 

“Yes, he’s flirting,” Octavia says patiently.

Bellamy keeps brushing her hair, but he makes a frustrated noise. “But is it serious flirting? Or is he like that with everyone?”

“Of course it’s serious. He doesn’t flirt with me. What are you doing to my hair?”

“I was thinking braids.”

“Braids? As in pigtail braids, or something presentable?”

“You’re in a rock band, O, I’m not giving you pigtail braids.”

“Not even in an edgy ironic-rock kind of way?”

Bellamy sighs, deep and long-suffering. He reaches for her temple and pulls a lock of hair out to the side. “Braid here. French-braided back against your head. One on each side. Edgy enough for you?”

“Yes, please.” Octavia settles back in her chair. Bellamy learned to braid hair when Octavia was seven and their mom had to work late on school picture day. He was fourteen and methodical, doing his best to make his sister pretty. He was determined, and after three or four tries, she ended up with even, straight braids for the yearbook. She’d been delighted by the whole thing, especially when he promised he would do it again.

He hasn’t had many occasions - mostly Octavia keeps her hair down because it’s so simple, or maybe just a ponytail - but he does. He does her hair whenever he has occasion, and this is an occasion.

“What are you going to do with the hair that’s not braided?” she asks, absently tapping her fingers on the floor.

“Uh, leave it down?” She can’t see Bellamy, but she can still imagine him shaking his head. “Maybe tease it or something, I don’t know.”

“Where the hell did you learn how to tease hair?”

“Monroe.”

That makes a surprising amount of sense. They dated for less than a month, but Monroe is intense enough about her hair to make him help her braid it.

“So, you nervous?”

Octavia bites her lip. “Maybe,” she allows. “On principle.”

Bellamy’s fingers comb through her hair, separating out three strands from the lock he has. “What principle?”

“The principle of… of people get nervous before important things happen.” And before seeing their exes, but he doesn’t need to know that part.

“It’s just a concert.”

“That could win us a record deal.”

“You know there are eighteen bands performing, right?”

“Yeah, the most there’s ever been.”

“And that means you have a five-point-six percent chance of winning. Not taking skill into account.”

Octavia raises her eyebrows. “Did you do that math in your head just now, or did you figure it out beforehand so you sounded more impressive?”

“The second one, but that’s not the point.”

“Is the point that I shouldn’t be nervous because we probably won’t win anyways?”

Bellamy snorts. “Wow, pessimistic much?”

“Only when it counts. What’s your point?”

“My point is…” Bellamy pauses dramatically, even in the braiding. “This is something worth being nervous about, sure. But you can do it, and so can the rest of the band. You shouldn’t be nervous. You’re better than the other ninety-four-point-five percent.”

Octavia turns to answer, carefully so she doesn’t mess up the braid, but she doesn’t know what to say. Bellamy is giving her this look, this gentle, sort of wry, sort of proud look. “Oh,” she manages, and she wishes it captured the expanding universe of gratefulness that she feels inside her chest.

Bellamy gives her a proper smile. “Turn back around so I can finish your hair.”

Octavia turns back obediently, grateful that she can hide her gushy smile. “Thanks, Bell.”

“Any time.” He starts moving his hands through his hair again. “So how’s Lincoln?”

“He’s doing good. He likes Portland.”

“What’s he doing again?”

“Tattoos, but he’s coaching self defense classes at a gym.” She pauses, bites her lip. “I miss him,” she admits.

“It’s been ten months, of course you miss him. I miss him sometimes.”

“You do not.”

“You’re right, but you do, so I miss him for your sake.”

Octavia smiles. She loves Bellamy, and she loves Lincoln, and she completely understands why Bellamy hated Lincoln. Even she can admit that, from an outside perspective, it started out shady. Nineteen year old girl fresh out of a bad relationship dating her grad student self defense coach? She’d be suspicious too.

She thinks that Bellamy only tolerates Lincoln because he was one of the deciding factors in her quitting A-Bomb. As much as Bellamy disliked Lincoln, he despised A-Bomb even more. Lincoln’s self-defense lessons were the entire reason she knocked Diggs on his ass. Bellamy had been proud of her and grateful to Lincoln. After that, it was smooth sailing with her boys.

“I’m sure he misses you too,” she says.

Bellamy snorts. “That’s sweet, O.”

“I’m the sweetest.”

Bellamy nudges her back with his foot. “Keep telling yourself that.”

She knows that he secretly agrees. She has the best brother.

 

 

 

 **bellblake**  
Pretty braids for a pretty sister. @8avia

8avia, therealjasperj, foxfawkesfox, and 17 others like this

 **cestmayavie** That’s so pretty! @bellblake you should do my hair sometime  
 **monroe_rumkowski** Looks like i taught you something after all.  
 **bellblake** @cestmayavie whenever you’re up for it, I’ll do it. I’m limited to braids, though.  
 **notfinncollins** wow, those are nice. b you must be really good w/ your hands ;)  
 **rockin_raven** @notfinncollins sorry, can you innuendo a little harder, i think that might’ve gone over someone’s head

 

 

 

From: Lincoln (3:27 PM)  
Good luck today, you’ll kick ass xox

To: Lincoln (3:28 PM)  
<3 Wish you were here

From: Lincoln (3:30 PM)  
Me too.

 

 

Raven wolf-whistles as soon as Octavia walks into the apartment. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Octavia strikes a pose. “The boots make the lady, right?”

Monty looks her up and down, then glances at Bellamy. “I’m a little surprised you let her out of the house in those.”

“Couldn’t have stopped her if I wanted to.” Bellamy crashes onto the couch. “She looks good, what am I gonna do to stop her?”

Monty laughs. “Good point. Lookin’ nice, O.”

“Why are we - whoa.” Clarke actually stops in her tracks to stare on the way out of the kitchen, gaping at the boots and then Octavia’s hair. It’s pretty good for Octavia’s self esteem, actually. “Holy shit.”

“Like what you see?” Octavia twirls to give her the full effect before picking up her guitar.

“You look…” Clarke swallows. “Yeah. Good.”

Octavia’s tempted to flirt a little, but Clarke has a girlfriend, and she has Lincoln. Still. “Thanks, Griffin. Not so bad yourself.”

Finn appears out of his bedroom and immediately says, “Goddamn, my friends are too hot.”

“Hot damn,” Monty and Raven answer simultaneously.

Bellamy laughs. “Maybe you should play Uptown Funk next.”

“We talked about that once.”

“We who?” Raven blinks.

“We, me and her.” Finn grins at Octavia, settling down on his stool. “So, O, rumor has it you have a plan to get around our set issue, right? What’s happening?”

Octavia looks at Clarke in surprise. “I thought you would tell them.”

Clarke laughs. “As if. This is your idea, you’re running this show. Now tell your band how you’re saving them.”

“My band?”

“They’re as much yours as mine.” Clarke shrugs and gestures at all of them, waiting. “We’re yours.”

Octavia could get used to that.

 

 

 

 **notfinncollins**  
genius coworker gets first dibs on spaghetti tonight. @8avia #shesavedtheband

bellblake, rockin_raven, romaforreal, and 18 others like this

 **8avia** genius is a strong word  
 **cgriffin** @8avia But it’s one you deserve!  
 **noteasybeing_green** @8avia C’s right, you’re a hero.  
 **bellblake** All hail the queen, my sister.  
 **8avia** stoooooooop

 

 **notfinncollins**  
look at the cute face @8avia makes when we embarrass her

cgriffin, therealjasperj, haaaaaarper, and 21 others like this

 **8avia** DELETE THIS  
 **notfinncollins** @8avia i will as soon as you admit we’re right  
 **8avia** fine i had a good idea now get rid of this  
 **notfinncollins** attagirl.

 

 

 

“Holy shit,” Finn says casually as the van pulls up in front of the events center.

Octavia is inclined to agree. The events center buzzing with activity. There are people milling around outside, barely-muffled bass sounds coming from inside, and almost nowhere to park the van. It’s terrifying.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Monty mutters, rapping his knuckles anxiously against the seat of the car. “Where’s check-in for bands?”

“It’s around the back,” Clarke says. When Octavia glances at her, she’s paler than normal, but she looks determined. “We get one backstage pass for someone outside the band, so Bellamy, do you want to come to the back with us and set up?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bellamy cranes his neck, looking through the lot. “Is there musician parking, or do we have to go with the rest of the people?”

“Oh, there’s-” Clarke goes fishing in her purse and comes up with a neon green sheet of paper. “Parking pass, stick it on your dashboard and you can park near the back.”

Octavia takes the paper and slides it onto the dashboard. “So what’s the plan?”

“Check in, rehearse for our hour of prep time, and blow the fucking roof off the place,” Clarke says, altogether too grim to be talking about an exciting new performance. “We don’t have another choice, they have to love us.”

Parking is pretty easy once they get to the musician’s lot - only a couple of other vans and trucks are there, plus a party bus - and unloading is even easier, with their minimal equipment. Granted, that includes the fifty billion pieces of Finn’s drumset, but between him, Clarke, and Bellamy, they manage to get everything. Raven watches from the side and holds up her cane whenever anyone suggests she help. (“I’m injured, Finn, you can take your snare by yourself, can’t you?” She ends up taking the snare, hobbling with it by her side and her cane in her other hand.)

They proceed to the check-in, where a bored-looking teenager snaps some bubblegum and points them down the hall to warm-up room B. Octavia guesses they make a funny sight, the six of them with instruments, Raven leading the way with the snare drum held in front of her like a beacon.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says suddenly, a strange, giggly note to her voice, “you look ridiculous.”

Bell, holding some big drum and a cymbal, turns to give her an odd look. “Why me?”

“Because the rest of us-” Clarke gestures, careful not to drop whatever drum thing she’s holding - “are all sort of punk rock. Even Monty and I look punk rock and we’re, like, the least punk rock people ever.”

“I dunno if it’s punk rock,” Monty says thoughtfully. “I always thought punk rock involved ripped clothes and eyeliner, and I’m not wearing eyeliner.”

“Yeah, but the bottom of your shirt is ripped off,” Raven points out. “And Octavia’s wearing a shit ton of eyeliner, which makes up for how Finn-”

“Octavia?”

At the sound of Atom’s voice, Octavia can feel every cell in her body stop moving. It’s like ice water is trickling through her skin, into her bones, and she can’t react at first. Then Bellamy nudges her ribs, and she snaps back into the second to see Atom standing - oh, god, he’s in the room marked Warm-Up B, with the rest of A-Bomb behind him.

“Atom!” she says, as falsely bright as she can manage. “You’re in our warm-up room.”

“Your warm-up room?” Behind Atom, Diggs snorts, and Octavia waits for the familiar swell of dread, because that tone of voice always leads to him yelling at her. It never comes. “I’m pretty sure it’s our warm-up room.”

Last year, Octavia would’ve apologized, but now she’s just annoyed. Can’t these people see that Raven has a fucking cane? Or that everyone else is holding some kind of equipment? Why are they holding up traffic?

“Actually, it’s 7:32,” Clarke says, voice just as chipper and fake as Octavia’s, and she silently thanks God for Clarke Griffin. “If you’re on at 7:40, then you’re late to your backstage time. You boys don’t want to slow down the show.”

“So piss off,” Raven finishes.

“Aw, c’mon.” Atom looks at Octavia, and she feels something ugly curl inside her gut. “O, don’t let them talk to us like that.”

Octavia opens her mouth, not entirely sure what she’s going to say, but Bellamy jumps in before she has the chance to figure it out. “Octavia doesn’t try to control the people in her band, unlike some of us. Get out.”

Atom gives Bellamy a disgusted look, but he gestures at the rest of the band. “Time to move out, boys.”

The Sky People move out of the way so A-Bomb can carry their equipment through. Diggs gives Octavia an ugly look as he passes her, but she smiles sweetly, and he moves along.

“Those guys were shitty,” Finn observes, going into the warm-up room and putting down his drums. “Tell me that wasn’t your old band.”

“Can’t do that, they were.” Octavia makes a face and sets the bass against the wall. “That was them playing nice.”

Finn whistles. “No wonder you quit.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty gross, as far as people go.” Octavia shakes her head and slings her guitar over her shoulders. “I was hoping we didn’t run into them, but since we did, I’m glad they know I’m better off now.”

“You are,” Monty says firmly. “We’re not assholes. Or at least, not with ill intent.”

“That sums up the band pretty well,” Raven admits. “So how are we rehearsing? We’ve got an hour.”

In almost unison, everyone turns to Clarke, who goes paler than she was in the van. “I- uh- let’s just set up and run the program?”

Finn frowns. “You all right there, princess?”

She glares at him, but it’s half-hearted. “I’m fine, I just need… I need some air.” With that, she turns and practically sprints out the way they came.

Monty stares. “Is she fighting with her mom again, or-”

Raven shakes her head. “That wasn’t Abby-nervous, that was just nervous.”

“Stress-nervous,” Finn supplies. “She gets that way when she has projects and papers due.”

“Should someone talk to her?” Monty leans forward, like if he looks through the doorway at the right angle, he’ll see Clarke.

“I’ll go,” Octavia says abruptly. Why not? She likes Clarke, and even if the A-Bomb encounter had been better than expected, her skin’s still crawling. She could use some air, too. “You guys can just set up and dick around, we’ll be back in a few.”

She goes to leave, but Bellamy catches her shoulder and leans in. “You good?”

It takes a second, but Octavia manages to nod jerkily. “Yeah,” she manages. “I just need a minute.”

Bellamy nods, eyes too understanding, and she wishes he didn’t have to understand but she’s so desperately glad he does. “Take however long you need, I’ll keep them in line.”

“Rude,” Finn says and promptly drops a drumstick directly on his foot. “Okay, maybe we do need a chaperone.”

I think you need a chaperone,” Raven says, voice desert-dry.

Octavia wanders out, smiling as she hears Finn gasp indignantly. Monty was right when he said they weren’t ill-intentioned. Everyone in A-Bomb had been legitimately mean to each other, like they wanted to tear each other down, but she knows that nobody actually thinks Finn needs a chaperone. In The Sky People, they have a sense of humor. It’s a big difference.

She makes her way outside, where it’s warm but not suffocating, and finds Clarke, sitting against the wall, gripping her phone with both hands.

“Hi,” Octavia says, plopping down next to her. “Stage fright?”

“Did they send you to check on me?”

Octavia shrugs. “I volunteered. I needed some air, too.”

“Was your band seriously that shitty the whole time you were with them?”

“Unfortunately.” She looks up at the sky. The sun’s not quite setting yet, but it’s getting close. The sky is pink streaked through blue. It’s been too long since she looked at the sky just because she could. “You guys are way different. Whenever I fuck up you just ask me to fix it. A-Bomb was much worse. I’m surprised Diggs didn’t start hitting me when I made mistakes.”

Clarke looks at her sharply. “Was that an issue?”

“Not really. Bell would’ve killed him, and so would Lincoln.” Clarke makes a questioning noise, and Octavia remembers that the band doesn’t know him yet. “My boyfriend. Long-distance, right now.”

“Is that who you’re always texting?”

“Yeah.” Octavia reaches for her phone on instinct, but stops herself. This isn’t about her, this is about Clarke. “So I’m out here because I need to cleanse my lungs after being in the same air as Atom’s mouth-breathing band, but what about you?”

Clarke taps her fingers against the pavement. “I’m scared.”

“Performance anxiety?”

“No, not that. I’m scared by how fast this is going.”

Octavia stretches her legs out and looks at Clarke curiously. “What do you mean, fast?”

Clarke bites her lip. “We performed before Monty joined the band, but only once. We weren’t serious. The only reason we had practice four months ago was so we had an excuse to hang out after Raven moved out. We played, but it was messy. It was supposed to be fun.”

“And it isn’t anymore?”

“No! No, it’s like… what’s your major?”

“Social work.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Social work?”

Octavia shrugs, feeling embarrassed. She knows it’s a total stereotype, but she wants to be the one who goes and makes a difference in kids’ lives. There’s a chance she could do it, too. She wants to be a force for good in the world. “What about it?”

“What’s your favorite part of it?”

“Oh, definitely the moral superiority. People think you’re some kind of angel.”

Clarke snorts. “Okay, sure. What’s your least favorite?”

“Reading all of the technicalities. The if-this-then-that shit.” Octavia shakes her head. The legal web is too convoluted to get through sometimes.

“But do you like reading?”

“Not reading that.”

“So the pressure of grades and your future makes it less fun.”

The little lightbulb in Octavia’s head clicks on. “And the pressure of wanting to prove this is worth all the time you spend is making this less fun?”

“Not less fun, just… scarier. And it was all ridiculously fast, right?”

“Was it?”

Clarke shakes her head. “It feels like yesterday we were playing in Grounders. Today we’re competing to record a demo. At this rate, we’ll be in Madison Square Garden in December.”

“Times Square on New Year’s Eve,” Octavia muses, letting the glamor of it wash over her. “We could do it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, not this year. But with a little faith, trust, and pixie dust…”

Clarke laughs. “You sound pretty confident.”

“Well, yeah, but you know you made all this happen, right?”

Clarke shoots her an amused look. “I might’ve started this band, but you and Monty brought it to life.”

“But who furnished his apartment and bought my guitar?”

Clarke blinks. Octavia bumps her shoulder against hers and gets a soft smile. “Look at it this way. Even if there’s a lot of pressure, performing is fun, right? Performing in this stadium, with all these people, is going to be kickass. We’re going to slay out there.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t get too optimistic on me.”

“What, can’t I worry?”

“Sure, but you have to act like you’re not. You’re the face of our band.” Octavia spreads her hands out in front of her. “Clarke Griffin, queen of The Sky People.”

Clarke laughs loudly, earning a strange look from the check-in teenager. “That’s really pretentious.”

“You deserve to be pretentious sometimes.”

Clarke gives her a considering look, her face much clearer now. “Maybe I do, huh? But so do you. If I’m the queen, you’re my knight.”

“Finn’s not going to be happy about that.”

“No, Finn’s the prince.” Clarke pauses and then giggles. “I’m sorry, just - you know those poofy old-fashioned pants that princes wear in bad period dramas?”

Octavia takes a moment to think about those pants, and then Finn in those pants, and before she knows it she’s laughing, tears in her eyes as she leans into Clarke. Clarke laughs right along with her, head dropping onto Octavia’s shoulder.

It’s another two minutes before they can get themselves together, but they manage it. And if Octavia has to avoid eye contact with Finn once they get back to the warm-up room, it’s a small price to pay for the way Clarke’s eyes are glowing.

 

 

 

 **foxfawkesfox**  
can’t believe i get to see this pretty girl rocking @arkrecords #collegecomp2k15 @8avia @theskypeople #loveyouroomie

8avia, bellblake, stellarsterling, and 27 others like this

 

 **therealjasperj**  
10 minutes to curtains up for my favorite band! @theskypeople

8avia, millernathan, itsvickiii, and 48 others like this

**monroe_rumkowski**  
rock concert w/ @foxfawkesfox @stellarsterling to see @theskypeople and @8avia

8avia, stellarsterling, bellblake, and 18 others like this

**romaforreal**  
About to see my kickass coworkers @8avia and @notfinncollins in their rock band @theskypeople

8avia, rockin_raven, notfinncollins, and 21 others like this

**its_lexa**  
Meeting my girlfriend’s friends before @theskypeople perform. #coolkids @cestmayavie @therealjasperj

8avia, cgriffin, therealjasperj, and 15 others like this

**noteasybeing_green**  
T-minus eight minutes till @theskypeople go on. Look at what @rockin_raven did to my hair. (Again.)

8avia, rockin_raven, millernathan, and 23 others like this

**haaaaaarper**  
@millernathan and me getting ready to see our cool friends @theskypeople perform at @arkrecords #collegecomp2k15 !!!!

8avia, millernathan, cestmayavie, and 29 others like this

**theskypeople**  
Thanks to everyone for all the nice messages! Here’s one last band pic pre-concert - see you on the other side!

8avia, romaforreal, haaaaaarper, and 64 others like this

**notfinncollins**  
check out this awesome curtain! lots of you are on the other side.

8avia, cgriffin, rockin_raven and 24 others like this

**bellblake**  
@theskypeople have come so far in the three months since @8avia joined. Proud to be backstage helping them set up before they compete to win a record deal @arkrecords #collegecomp2k15 tonight. This ones for you, O. Go kill it.

8avia, notfinncollins, romaforreal, and 15 others like this

 

 

 

Getting on stage is a whirlwind of motion. The minute the band before them is off, there’s a swarm of roadies, ushering them all onto the stage. Octavia hooks her guitar up to her amp and waits. Raven hands her cane to Bellamy, and a couple of stagehands bring her a stool, and Octavia takes a deep, bracing breath. **  
**

College Comp is a pipe dream for everyone who grew up near the Mount. Everyone knows about it, and if you’re going into music, you’re going to look at College Comp. College Comp means you’re serious.

Looks like Octavia’s serious, now.

“Hey,” Bellamy murmurs, dropping a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve gotta get out of here, Monroe made me swear I’d sit with her, but we’ll all meet up in the parking lot afterwards, okay?”

Afterwards? Octavia just wants to get started. “Bell,” she croaks, not sure what more she can say. She has so much to say - thank you for driving us and doing my hair, thank you for telling me not to quit, I’ve never been so scared in my life - but all she can manage around the lump in her throat is “I love you.”

Bellamy’s face softens immediately, and he sweeps her into a hug, carefully avoiding her guitar. “I love you so much, O.”

“I’m scared, Bell.” Her voice cracks in the middle, but she can’t even be embarrassed. She’s never been this scared in her life. She’s never had so much depending on her before.

“I know.” Bellamy smooths her hair down, cupping the back of her neck, grounding her to the here and now. “Listen to me, okay? You’re going to be fine. You just played the set twice, you saved the show with your idea, and you can do this in your sleep. Got it?”

Her mouth is too dry to answer, but she nods, and he sighs a slow breath against her neck. “And I’m proud of you. You’ve come so far, and you care so much, and I’m proud to say you’re my sister. You’re gonna kick ass.”

“C-course I am.” She swallows hard, trying to drown out the tremor in her voice. “We all are.”

Bellamy kisses her cheek and pulls back, smiling softly at her. “Break a leg, okay?”

Raven claps loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Hey, listen up, Sky People. We got two minutes, time for our luck ritual.”

Monty pushes out from behind his keyboard and gravitates towards Raven. Bellamy looks hesitantly at Octavia. “So who are you-”

“She’s kissing me,” Clarke says brightly. Octavia barely has time to react before Clarke grabs her shoulders, spins her around, and leans in. Octavia kisses back enthusiastically - kissing is nice, and this is the only chance she’s gotten in ten months to do it - and pushes Bellamy away.

Clarke laughs quietly against her mouth. “Think he’ll get the hint?”

“Finn will if he doesn’t.” Octavia pulls back and watches Bellamy, looking slightly scared but determined, go over to Finn, still holding Raven’s cane. “C’mon, Bell...”

Finn slides out from behind his drumset, grinning at Bellamy. They’re reaching for each other before they’re even close and within seconds Octavia has to look away because as much as she loves her brother she doesn’t need to watch him make out with her coworker.

Clarke pats her shoulder. “I get why you’re not looking, but this is kind of hot.”

“It’s also my brother.” Octavia chances a glance and watches Bellamy pull away, looking shy, and say something that she can’t hear.

Finn laughs and darts in for another quick kiss. Bellamy grins, half-dazed, before looking at the band at large. “Go kick some ass.”

One of the stagehands hurries him out, and there’s another burst of activity, everyone tapping keys and strumming strings and making sure everything works, and then they all leave, and the only thing between the band and the audience is a sheet of velour.

It’s quiet, and Octavia takes a minute to close her eyes. She doesn’t pray often, but she figures sending up a quick “give us strength” won’t hurt anyone. She’s not religious, and neither is Bellamy, but their mom was, and it feels like having her mom there.

Clarke covers the microphone and turns around to look at all of them. “Guys,” she says seriously, “if we win this, I’m taking you all to Hawaii.”

“Deal,” Octavia says instantly.

Clarke grins at her and opens her mouth, but before she has the chance to say anything, there are footsteps on the other side of the curtain. “We’re back to the bands!” the emcee yells, and the crowd starts cheering. It’s not too loud, but Octavia takes a tiny step back anyways. This is what they’re about to be performing in front of.

“We got some rock and roll for you!” the emcee says, and Octavia shifts her pick between her fingers. “From Mount Weather University in Virginia, give it up for the earth-shakin’ record-breakin’ new band - The Sky People!”

Octavia doesn’t have any time to prepare herself. The curtain starts shifting, and she sucks in a deep breath. Every rehearsal, every Sunday and Thursday night, every moment of the last three months - it’s for this. It’s for this second.

And then the curtain’s up, and Octavia’s breath catches in her throat. The arena is full. It’s one thing to think about all these people, but another to see all of them watching them, waiting to hear their music. She wants to look around, see if anyone else is feeling the little-kid awe that she is, but she doesn’t have time.

Clarke leans into her mic. “What’s up, ARK Records!” she yells. “Let’s get this party started!”

Behind them, Finn starts crashing on his drums, loud and rhythmic, and Octavia shifts into autopilot. They’ve practiced Burn It Down so many times that she doesn’t need to think before hitting her first chord.

Octavia’s not sure what style the rest of the bands had, beyond A-Bomb’s pseudo-metal music, but the crowd seems to appreciate their energy from the get-go. Burn It Down is a psych-up song, and by the time they reach the slow section in the song they’ve gotten a couple of screams from the crowd. Octavia is positively giddy with it - the crowd absorbs their energy, yeah, but they get all their energy from the crowd. A happy crowd means a happy band.

Then they get into the slower section, and Raven pics up her mic. “How’re we doin’, College Comp?”

The crowd screams, properly screams at them, and Octavia almost takes another step back, it’s so overwhelming. Raven just laughs. “I’m Raven Reyes-”

“-and I’m Clarke Griffin-”

“-and we are The Sky People!”

“We’re here to play good music and have a good time!”

“And meet hot people!” Raven adds, which gets a louder cheer. Octavia giggles, but she can barely hear it over the sound of her own guitar.

“But you can save that part for after the show, right?” Clarke asks. Raven flashes her a thumbs-up, and Clarke throws her arms out wide, facing the crowd. Octavia wishes she could see it from the front because it’s electrifying from behind. “So let’s get back to what you came here for!” The crowd yells, and Octavia bows her head to her guitar, and the song’s over before she knows it.

And, okay, Octavia played at Grounders, and before that she played a couple of bars with A-Bomb, and they were applauded after performances, but this? This is beyond applause. It’s thunderous and broad and there are people screaming and she has never felt so alive. It’s validation like she’s never felt before.

She barely remembers to go to her stool for the next song, but she sees Raven sitting with her braced leg stretched awkwardly out in front of her and copies her position as she sits. Raven flashes a grin at her, and she grins back, and then they’re off.

Jet Pack Blues really is a ballad, or at least as much of one as would fit with the rest of their set. It’s lazy chords, simple notes, and Clarke’s plaintive voice, and somehow it sounds just as rock-’n’-roll as the rest of the program. It’s a fast three minutes, and Octavia’s standing up before she knows it, the crowd roaring their approval.

“Shit,” she mutters to herself as she slides off the stool. Style. She’s the entire beginning of Style. If she fucks up, they’re going to sound like shit. She hears Monty’s voice behind her and turns even though she can’t make out the words. He smiles brightly at her, and she finds herself returning it without even thinking about it. Monty has that effect.

“Ladies and gentlemen and everything in between and outside, we’d like to play you out with a song from the queen herself, Miss Taylor Swift!” The crowd makes some impressively mixed noises - some cheering, some groaning, a general air of “what the fuck” - and Clarke looks back at Octavia.

Octavia lifts her head. This is her ten seconds of fame right here. Time to make it count. “Three, four!” she shouts, and hits her first chord. Finn meets her tempo perfectly, hero that he is, and she can’t even think about how glad she is because she has to keep going. They’re barrelling through the song before she realizes it, Clarke crooning about James Dean daydreams and Monty and Raven providing a steady backdrop. Just before the slow section she can feel herself grinning. This is adrenaline the likes of which she couldn’t have imagined.

Clarke sings out “So take me home,” and all of them drop out except Finn, keeping up a beat, and Octavia’s skin feels supercharged, and she wonders if she’s glowing.

Raven grabs her mic. “How about we give a hand to our members without mics? The fantastic Finn Collins on the drums!” Finn plays something loud and impressive, and the crowd screams. Octavia glances back and sees him laughing, hair flying around his face.

“Our keyboard, the incomparable Monty Green!” Clarke points back at Monty. Octavia turns to see him wave, grinning proudly up at the audience, and he launches into his chords.

“Queen of everything, Octavia Blake on guitar!” Raven turns to her, and the world is neon bright and sharp around the edges. She can barely feel her face from how hard she’s smiling, and she snaps off a salute to the crowd, messy but proud, and starts in with her part, blending in with Monty and Finn.

“Since we’re up here, we’ve got to thank our families, especially my mom Abby and Octavia’s brother Bellamy, for all their love and support.”

“And thanks to our friends who’ve been with us this whole way. Thanks even more to Jasper, Miller, Maya, and Harper, who haven’t missed a show yet! Love you guys.”

“And all of you!” Clarke punches the air, and the crowd surges with energy. “You’ve been a hell of a crowd, and we love you all! I’m Clarke-”

“I’m Raven-”

“And we’ll never go out of style!”

“One, two, three!” Raven points at Clarke, and they’re off again. Octavia can barely hear the melody over the sound of her heartbeat or through the feeling of the frets under her fingers. She feels warm from the inside out. Her fingers are aching and her wrists are shaking and she has never felt so at home.

“Out of style!” Clarke sings out, and they hit their last note, and the crowd leaps to their feet. Octavia claps a hand to her mouth. She’ll start crying if people keep up with all this cheering.

“Good night, ARK Records!” Raven yells, and the curtain drops and the lights dim and Octavia’s seeing fucking stars.

Here’s the thing that she never fully considered when she joined a rock band: now, she’s a rock star.

 

 

 

 **therealjasperj**  
#ICYMI Here’s @theskypeople fucking KILLING IT with some TSwift. They’re so good it actually scares me. Couldn’t be happier that they’re my friends.

cestmayavie, itsvickiii, its_lexa, and 84 others like this

 **itsvickiii** Hoooooly shit  
 **therealjasperj** @itsvickiii I KNOW  
 **haaaaaarper** honestly this doesn’t even capture the atmosphere, they were on fire  
 **monroe_rumkowski** these kids are so damn good  
 **8avia** <3 <3 <3 <3

 

 

 

There are roadies that take their instruments off the stage and presumably out to the van. Octavia would follow them to make sure they find Bellamy, but every time she moves she feels like she’s floating. The adrenaline is dizzying. **  
**

Somehow they all make it to a green room, where a harried-looking stage manager with a Bluetooth explains that they have ten minutes in the room and they can leave, as long as they’re back in time for the top four announcement in two hours. Octavia’s not sure what they say to get Bluetooth to leave, but afterwards, it’s the five Sky People clutching water bottles and trying to come back down to earth.

Octavia doesn’t want to move, because it might break the surreal moment, but Clarke takes a step forward towards the middle of the room. She takes a long drink of water, looks at them all, and rasps out, “Holy shit.”

It’s like the spell is broken. Finn starts laughing and wraps Clarke in a massive bear hug, and Raven tugs Octavia and Monty in, too. They form a knot in the middle of the room, all five of them wrapped around each other.

“Thank you,” Clarke says, her voice cracked with overuse and emotion. “Jesus, thank you all, I don’t know where I’d be without you guys.”

“On a Saturday night? Studying at home.” Finn drops a kiss on top of her hair. “That was fucking amazing, that was - that was unreal.”

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see an arena full of people,” Monty says wonderingly, and something about that is just the fucking funniest thing Octavia can imagine. Or at least, it must be, because she starts laughing, bright and chest-achingly and overjoyed. Raven chuckles and rubs Octavia’s back and she can’t stop laughing until the world is nothing but Monty’s back beneath her fingers and the floor beneath her feet and joy, pure, hysterical joy.

 

 

 

From: Bellamy (9:24 PM 2 May 2015)  
You guys coming out anytime soon?

To: Bellamy (9:26 PM 2 May 2015)  
we’re heading out now, impact in t-minus 3

From: Bellamy (9:27 PM 2 May 2015)  
Fair warning, I think Fox is going to jump on you

 

 

 

Fox jumps on Octavia the minute she’s close enough. The band is ten feet away from the rest of their people, but Fox sees them and screeches “Tavia!” and practically throws herself at them. The rest of the band wisely moves out of the way when they see Fox sprinting towards them, but Octavia catches her and spins her around. “Tavia, oh my god, that was amazing, you guys sounded so good, that was a great show!” **  
**

Octavia smacks a kiss on her cheek. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“We all enjoyed it,” Monroe says. Fox hurries back and Monroe comes in for a hug. “You guys make me want to join a band. You were so good!”

“It’s a lot of fun with the right people,” Octavia agrees. Monroe squeezes her a little tighter before letting her go.

Sterling’s next, giving her a warm, gentle hug. “Nice boots,” he says.

Octavia laughs and smooths her hair back. “But really, you guys have been here for a couple of hours, right? How did we sound compared to the other bands?”

“You were definitely the most rock, except A-Bomb.” Monroe frowns. “If you can call that shit music. It’s not my thing. But there was a lot of pop stuff, and folksy stuff.”

“I’m never listening to folk music again,” Fox says with a shudder. Octavia laughs because she’s seen Fox’s iTunes and knows that if that’s true, Fox will have nothing left to listen to. She’s about to say so when Bellamy materializes next to Sterling, hair slightly mussed (Finn’s work, she’ll assume) and smile bright in a way that Octavia hasn’t seen for far too long. She doesn’t hesitate in leaning down and pulling him in for a hug, hand at the base of his skull.

“My sister, the rock star,” Bellamy murmurs, and Octavia buries her face in the crook of his neck, like she did when they were kids. “God, look at you. You were better than any rehearsal.”

“We did good?” she asks, voice smaller than she wants.

Bellamy squeezes her tighter and lets her nestle deeper into his neck. She never needed Bellamy’s approval, but she always wants his support. Having him support her like this means more than either of them can say. She loves him more than she has words for.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says suddenly. Octavia blinks, makes sure that her eyes are still dry, and pulls back enough to look up at him. He’s smiling at her.

“If your surprise is that you and Finn are dating now, we all know already,” she says, but she can’t fight down her curiosity. “What is it?”

Bellamy pulls his arms back, and she reluctantly lets him go. His eyes flick to the side. Octavia follows his glance and realizes with a start that Monroe is aiming her phone at them.

“Are you filming my reaction?” she laughs as nerves spark to life in her chest. “Bell, what is it?”

“Wellllllll,” Bellamy says, drawing it out with a grin. “Obviously this concert was a big deal, and you deserve to have the best support system that we could get here. I know that you’re glad I was here, and Fox and the rest of your friends, but I know there was someone missing.”

Lincoln, Octavia’s mind supplies before creaking to a halt. Lincoln? Where is he going with this?

“What, Lincoln?” she says blankly. “Wait, what do you-”

“Surprise,” Bellamy says. He grabs Octavia’s shoulders and spins her to the side and there, by the band, just far enough away from the rest of the group that he’s easy to see, is Lincoln.

Octavia’s running towards him before she realizes she decided to move. Lincoln’s smiling at her and she missed how it looked in real life, not through a screen, she missed him. Shit, she missed him so much.

He catches her as soon as she’s in reach, picking her up and spinning her around. She throws his arms around his neck and holds on as tightly as she can. She thinks she’s never going to let go.

“Surprise,” he whispers against her neck, setting her down carefully on the ground.

Octavia breathes in sharply, not quite sure that she can speak without crying. Lincoln’s hands are warm and wide against her back, and she focuses on that, the proof that this is real. That he’s here. “How,” she gasps, almost sobbing.

“It was Bellamy’s idea,” Lincoln explains, lifting a hand to cup Octavia’s cheek. “He knew that you’d want me here, and I wanted to be here, so he bought me a plane ticket out here.”

“He-” Octavia looks over at Bellamy, who gestures for her to get back to Lincoln. “But don’t you have work?”

“I always have work.” Lincoln smiles warmly. “But I don’t always have the chance to see you, especially not in a concert. And in those boots.”

“The boots are pretty good, right?” Octavia giggles, but she can’t stay lighthearted for long. She hasn’t seen Lincoln in ten months, and now he’s saying nice things about her sex-on-legs boots after watching her with her band. It’s a lot to take in.

He seems to read her mind, because he sweeps a thumb across her cheekbone. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She doesn’t think twice before leaning up to kiss him, one hand reaching up to grab at the back of his head. He pulls her in closer till she’s flush up against him. That’s another thing she missed: kissing Lincoln.

“So this is the boyfriend?” Clarke guesses, far too close to them. Octavia would frown at her if she could, but frowning requires her mouth, and she likes her mouth where it is, so she settles for flipping Clarke off instead. She hears a laugh. “Yeah, okay, message received.”

“She has a boyfriend?” Finn demands. “What the hell, O, you’re dating the hottest guy in this place -”

Bellamy clears his throat pointedly.

“- except for your hot brother and yours truly, of course - and you didn’t even tell us?”

Lincoln pulls back enough to murmur, “Why is your drummer talking about your hot brother? Do you have another brother I don’t know about?”

“Okay, that was rude,” Finn says. “Pretty funny, but rude.”

Octavia reluctantly moves so she’s standing against Lincoln’s side instead of his front. “Everyone, this is Lincoln. Lincoln, you probably heard everyone’s name at some point, right?”

“That I did.” Lincoln smiles warmly at everyone. “It’s good to finally meet you all, Octavia talks about you so much.”

“Yeah, it was really nice to actually meet you!” Fox grins at him. “Now I can tell you all the embarrassing stories that Octavia won’t let me say over Skype!

“Absolutely not,” Octavia says immediately.

“Sounds like a plan,” Lincoln says. Octavia buries her head in her hands. She has to be the first person ever to be disappointed that her boyfriend likes all her friends.

 

 

 

 **8avia**  
@bellblake got me the best surprise: a plane ticket for my boyfriend! #hesback !!!!

therealjasperj, noteasybeing_green, bellblake, and 31 others like this

 **bellblake** Glad you liked the surprise. Love you.  
 **8avia** @bellblake of course i did. love you too!  
 **therealjasperj** He’s such a cool guy, I’m impressed. He’s a keeper.  
 **8avia** @therealjasperj he says thanks! and i agree too.

 

 

 

The events center only has one concession stand. It’s clearly not suited for crowds like College Comp, but Octavia refuses to watch other bands. She thinks it’d make her too nervous. Half the group goes in to watch more bands, and people break up into smaller groups, but ultimately Octavia ends up sitting on Lincoln’s lap with Raven flicking pretzel salt at them both.

“At least now we know who she’s always texting,” Raven muses, pausing in her salt assault to take a bite of her pretzel. “It is you, right?”

“I hope so,” Lincoln says, propping his chin on Octavia’s shoulder. “Unless there’s something you want to tell me, O?”

“Yes,” Octavia deadpans. “You make me look like I have more of a social life than I really do, and I appreciate that.”

Lincoln laughs. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, Finn and I had a bet on how many people were hitting on you for you to be texting all the time.”

“You did not.”

“Who won?” Lincoln leans in. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Monty won, actually. He overheard us and made a joke that it was just one person, but he wasn’t serious.” Raven shakes her head. “That bastard. I guessed lower than Finn, though.”

“What did Finn say?”

“Twenty.” Raven smirks. “I said twelve.”

Octavia turns to Lincoln. “I like you better than the other eleven, you know.”

“And you’re my favorite out of my thirteen.” Lincoln kisses her nose, and she scrunches it up in protest. “Don’t worry, the others are online. Except one.”

“Well, you already know two of my girlfriends, so I think you have an unfair advantage.”

Raven shakes her head in amazement. “I didn’t believe in soulmates until today, but you two are so meant to be that it’s scary.”

“We try,” Lincoln says modestly.

Octavia’s about to add something quippy when she notices someone approaching out of the corner of her eye. She turns just as Atom and Diggs reach their table.

“Hey, look, it’s those assholes from earlier,” Raven says brightly. “Fuck off, boys, we’re in the middle of something.”

Atom ignores her. “Well, Octavia, I’ve got to hand it to you. Your new band doesn’t suck.”

“Thanks,” Octavia says blandly. “My old band was pretty bad, so I was glad for the chance to move up in the world.”

Diggs rolls his eyes. “And we’re glad we got rid of our shitty guitarist.”

Atom elbows Diggs in the side. “Cut it out, dude, she’s not worth it.”

Octavia has to stifle a laugh. “Look, I appreciate that you came over to say hi, but Raven’s right. We’ve got enough to talk about without you clogging up our personal space.”

“Whoa, hey, we’re not trying to start anything,” Diggs says in the exact tone of voice of someone who’s trying to start something. “We just wanted to come say something to our old guitarist and her crippled bassist.”

Octavia leans forward, ready to fight him, but before she has the chance there’s a snapping sound and Diggs is stumbling backwards.

“Oh, sorry,” Raven says cheerfully. “See, I’m new at this whole needing-a-cane thing, and I don’t know my own strength, or the cane’s strength. I was just trying to move it so I could get up and fight you. Did I hit you?”

Diggs rubs his shin and glares at Raven. “You want to fight me?”

“You want to fight a girl with a cane, go on ahead.” Raven shrugs, and Octavia can feel Lincoln chuckling. “I’m game, but you have to remember how it’s going to look for you.”

“That’s enough.” Atom glares at Raven before looking back at Octavia. “Christ, your new band is all jackasses, aren’t they?”

“So was my old band.” Octavia gives him her most saccharine smile before dropping it for a glare. “Go take a long walk off a short pier, Atom.”

Atom takes a step closer, and Lincoln’s arms tighten around Octavia’s waist. “You need me to kick his ass?” he murmurs.

Octavia laughs. “You’re sweet, but I can do that on my own, and you know it.”

“I figured I’d offer. Chivalry, and all that.”

“Chivalry is letting your girlfriend fight her own fights. And I’m happy to fight Atom.”

“Who’s fighting who?” Finn appears out of nowhere, clapping heavy hands down on both Atom and Digg’s shoulders. They both jump, because for all that they talk a big game, they’re actually huge scaredy-cats.

“I’m fighting Atom, and Diggs is fighting Raven.” Octavia grins at him. “Place your bets?”

“I only bet on close fights, and those both sound like blowouts.”

Raven frowns at him. “That’s a terrible betting strategy. Don’t bet on close fights.”

“Jesus, is this what you’re like all the time?” Diggs shakes his head. “You guys are fucking idiots.”

“No, we actually have a broader range of conversational topics than you.” Octavia lifts a hand and waves. “Now get out of here before I actually do kick your ass.”

“Fine,” Atom snaps. “We came to make peace.”

“Bullshit you. Get out.”

Atom leaves with Diggs in tow, both of them grumbling along the way. Octavia watches them go with growing satisfaction. “God, I really hated those guys.”

“Hear, hear,” Lincoln mutters. “But you’re mine now.”

“No, you’re mine,” Octavia argues. She’s not sure which is true. Both, probably. That sounds good to her.

 

 

 

 **rockin_raven**  
out of all my dating friends, @8avia and her boyfriend are the best at making me feel like i’m not third-wheeling. kudos.

monroe_rumkowski, romaforreal, cestmayavie, and 17 others like this

 **notfinncollins** you kind of are third-wheeling though  
 **rockin_raven** @notfinncollins yeah but it’s not awkward

 

 

 

The Final Four announcement is at 11, and while none of the bands have to be on stage, they all have to be in the stadium to see it. Octavia stands between Bellamy and Lincoln behind all of the seats, mostly because it’d be pretty fucking hard to find seats for their whole entourage. The emcee strolls out on stage promptly at 11 and bellows “How was that, College Comp!”

The crowd surges into screaming and cheering. Finn claps and Raven whoops loudly, but Octavia can’t find it inside her to do the same. For one thing, being in the crowd doesn’t compare to being on stage; for another, she’s almost too scared to breathe.

“We’re gonna keep this short and simple. The board of directors at College Comp had to do the impossible and get our eighteen amazing bands down to a final four.”

Octavia sucks in a deep breath, hoping that it’ll steady her. It doesn’t. Lincoln squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. She has never wanted anything so attainable as much as she wants this.

“Our top four bands are gonna head backstage for our winner’s announcement in half an hour. But first, how about one more cheer for all eighteen bands that gave us six solid hours of music!”

The crowd screams again. Bellamy laces his fingers with Octavia’s.

“Now, for the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” The crowd quiets down, and it’s almost eerie. “Ladies and gents, please hold your applause to the end of the announcements as I tell you, in random order - the top four!”

Octavia closes her eyes. This is it. Shit, this is it.

“From Southtown Technical College in Washington, DC, we got Sailway!” There are a couple of cheers, but nothing too loud. “From Coldwood College in Mars, West Virginia, it’s Jump In Girl!” A smattering of applause; Octavia wishes she could move, but she’s paralyzed. “From Mount Weather University in Mount Weather, Virginia, they’re The Sky People!”

It takes a second to work its way through Octavia’s brain. The cogs churn to life, and she thinks, That’s our name, that’s us, we’re in the top four, we did it.

“Holy shit,” she says matter-of-factly. When she opens her eyes, the world seems cleaner and brighter. She hears, through the din in her head, the name of the fourth band. All that she notices is that it’s not A-Bomb, which gives her a sharp, vindictive pleasure.

The crowd sparks back to life, cheering and screaming, and it’s like a switch flips on in Octavia’s head, because she wants to cheer and scream, too. Instead she turns and swings her arms around Lincoln’s neck, laughing as she does. He’s laughing, too, as he picks her up. “Final four,” he says into her ear - almost yells, really, to be heard.

“I can’t believe it!” She beams at him. “Final four!”

“You deserve it, too, you were fantastic.” He sets her down and turns her to face Fox and Monroe.

“Tavie, you’re a fucking gem!” Fox kisses her forehead and pushes her off to Monroe. “But we don’t have time to congratulate you because you need to get backstage and win!”

“We’re not going to win.” Octavia frowns. “Are we? You saw the other bands, how do we measure up?”

“Well, you’ll beat both of the DC bands, no problem.” Monroe claps her hands on Octavia’s shoulders. “Jump In Girl is your biggest threat, but I’m not sure you can’t beat them.”

“Don’t say that! What if we lose?”

“What if you win?” Monroe pushes her off towards Sterling. “Think about it!”

Sterling catches Octavia in a hug. “You did it!”

“We mostly did it, why is everyone acting like we’re going to win?”

“You could,” Lexa says. Octavia blinks at her - she hasn’t properly met Lexa, but based on what Finn says, she’s a hardass and notoriously blunt. Lexa holds her gaze. “I mean it. You could win this.”

Octavia swallows. “Do you mean that?”

Lexa doesn’t quite smile, but Octavia thinks that if Lexa were a smiley person, she’d smile now. “I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

Octavia wants to win. Who enters a competition and doesn’t want to win it? But something about infamously stoic Lexa, infamously honest Lexa saying that they could win makes it real.

“We could win,” Octavia breathes. She hopes it’s true.

 

 

 

 **theskypeople**  
Final four! Can’t believe we made it this far - wish us luck!

8avia, millernathan, haaaaaarper, and 71 others like this

 **itsvickiii** good luck guys! wish i could see you live, you all seem so cool!  
 **therealjasperj** @itsvickiii come visit sometime!  
 **therealjasperj** And go out and kick some ass guys!  
 **bellblake** The announcement’s coming soon, I’ll post the results here.

 

 

 

“We’re going to stand in a line,” Clarke decides. “Here, let’s line up. Somehow.”

Monty gives Clarke a dubious look. “Somehow?”

“We’re winging it. It’s worked this far.”

Finn links elbows seamlessly with Clarke. “There, the line’s started. Raven, you go on her other side.”

“Yup.” Raven hooks her arm through Clarke’s other arm.

“Are you taking the cane on stage?” Monty asks, surprised.

Raven shrugs. “Why not? What are people going to do, judge me for needing help? After that performance? As if. Now get over here, Green.”

Monty obediently goes closer to Raven, and Finn looks at Octavia expectantly. “C’mon, O.”

“Wait, wait!” Octavia fumbles with her phone. “This is the perfect opportunity for our first band selfie.”

“We don’t have a band selfie yet?” Clarke frowns. “It’s been like four months, how do we not have a band selfie?”

“Well, we don’t have one with all of us in concert mode. So!” Octavia slides in beside Finn and lifts her phone, angling it just right. This is an important moment and it deserves to be memorialized in selfie form. “Everyone say College Comp!”

“Absolutely not,” Raven says, but they all smile for the camera anyways. Monty throws up a peace sign and Finn duckfaces and Octavia’s very clearly mid-laugh. It’s a fantastic picture. Octavia sets it as her lock screen before handing her phone to Finn to put in his pocket.

One of the stagehands comes over and ushers them to their spot in the lineup, positioning them just so and wishing them luck before hurrying along. It’s 11:27. These next three minutes are going to be the most stressful of Octavia’s life.

“Guys,” Monty says suddenly, “whatever happens, thanks for letting me be a part of this. It’s been incredible.”

Raven nudges him in the ribs. “Hey, we’re happy to have you here, too. We wouldn’t be where we are without you. It takes a village. Or a fivesome.” She pauses. “Hey, what if-”

“Fivesomes are hard, wouldn’t recommend,” Clarke says. “They sound like a better idea than they are.”

Finn stares at her. “You had a five-way?”

“Not the point,” she says smoothly. “The point is, we did a phenomenal job. We’re in the top four, that’s making it really far already. We can all hope to win, but I think we already won.”

“In the figurative sense,” Raven clarifies.

“But hopefully also literally, right?” Octavia smiles, hoping it can hide her nerves. She wants this painfully badly. She wants to win. She wanted a band, and she couldn’t have dreamed of this, but now… now she know they can make it.

“Wait, I’m sorry, I can’t let this go.” Finn looks at Clarke. “You had a five-way?”

Clarke shrugs. “It was an art department thing.”

“An art-” Finn gawks. “So that’s why Louise was talking about how lucky I was to be living with someone so flexible? I thought she meant your schedule!”

He looks so scandalized that Octavia has to laugh, and then Raven’s laughing too, and Monty’s shaking with how hard he’s laughing. Clarke just smiles beatifically.

“Thirty seconds to curtain!” a stagehand chirps, and all of them stop laughing abruptly.

“Guys,” Octavia murmurs, not completely willingly, “I’m scared.”

“Good.” Finn nudges her lightly. “That means this matters.”

“We’ve got this, O,” Raven says firmly. “They loved us.”

And then the curtain’s lifting, and Octavia doesn’t have the time to say That’s not what I’m scared of. The people love them, but did the directors?

 

 

 

 **arkrecords**  
Congratulations to our #CollegeComp2K15 winners @JumpInGirl for their on-stage success! They’ll be coming in to record a demo with is within the next few months. Thank you to everyone who came out to watch our competition this year!

jumpingirl, aaandreaaa, vlasiclasic, and 517 others like this

 **  
**  


Clarke starts crying, silent and bitter, as soon as the curtain drops. She keeps her arms looped through Finn’s and Raven’s, but she lifts her hands to rub at her eyes. “I thought,” she starts raggedly, but cuts herself off with a deep breath. “I thought we couldn’t have done any better.”

“Fuckin’ right,” Raven answers, thick-voiced. “We did good.”

Finn looks around at them all, eyes wet, but doesn’t say anything, just ducks his head until his hair’s falling around his face. He looks sadder than Octavia has ever seen him.

“We did an amazing job,” Monty says hoarsely. “And this sucks, but we should be proud.”

Octavia is. She couldn’t be prouder. They’re a raggedy-ass group of college kids that didn’t mean to make it this far. She’s so proud of them and herself that she can feel it vibrating inside her muscles, in the space between her fingers. They made something fantastic together, and if the ARK board of directors didn’t see it, it’s their loss.

She’s not disappointed, really. Disappointed feels like too weak of a word. Mostly, she just feels numb when she thinks about losing. She’d hoped so hard that they could win. Now all of her hope is gone, and in its place is… something. Just emptiness, probably.

“C’mere,” Clarke croaks, spreading her arms out, and everyone knots together into a group hug. Monty winds an arm around Octavia’s waist, and she loops her arm around Finn’s shoulder, and she can’t be happier than she is right now. Clarke lowers her head, hiding her face. “Guys, thank you for everything. For all your work, and for making me work too. This has been a dream come true, and there’s nobody I’d rather be here with.”

Finn’s arms tighten around them. “I fucking love you guys.”

Clarke makes a choked noise, and Raven rubs her back. “We did good, princess,” she murmurs, a couple of tears dripping down her nose. “We did such a good job.”

“I know we did.” Clarke lifts her head and smiles, and it’s so bright and pained that Octavia can feel a sob building up in her lungs. “We did a spectacular job. I just wish we could’ve won.”

Octavia bites down on the inside of her cheek, but it’s not enough to stop herself from crying. Monty squeezes her waist, and even he looks teary, but he still asks, tentative and sad, “What do we do now?”

“Well, if you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you now,” says a voice from the outside.

Clarke jerks upright, furiously wiping at her face with her sleeve. “Of course,” she answers, voice cracking, but she swallows and her face smooths into something cooler. “What can we help you with?”

The rest of the group unfolds reluctantly and turns to look at their intruder. He’s professional and pleasant-looking, standing with his hands behind his back and a politely interested smile on his face. He looks too nice to be anything other than someone important. “Miss Griffin, my name is Marcus Kane. I’m on the board of directors at ARK Records.”

Octavia’s eyes bulge. There are nine directors on ARK, and while Kane’s not the lead director, he’s probably still pretty damn important. And he’s talking to them.

Clarke keeps her face impassive. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m afraid mine is a little wet right now.”

Kane nods. “Understood. May I speak to you privately?”

“I-” Clarke looks around at all of them, scared and surprised, before her resolve comes back. “If it’s about the band, I’d prefer that you talk to all of us. Being the frontwoman doesn’t mean being the leader.”

Octavia nearly snorts - that’s a fucking lie, Clarke is absolutely their leader - but Kane’s eyes crinkle up around the edges. “Then let me speak frankly. I believe that the board made the wrong choice tonight. The vote between the directors was split five to four, with both myself and Director Jaha on your side. Your band should have won.”

Everything goes still. Nobody seems to know what to say, but Octavia thinks she’s the first to recover. “That’s very kind of you to say, sir,” she says, surprised by how steady her voice is, “but it doesn’t make much of a difference now.”

Clarke glares daggers at her, but Raven nods. “Octavia’s right. Please say what you’re here to say, Mr. Kane.”

Kane lifts his chin. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get a demo, but the other directors and I would like you all to come to the studio sometime. There would be a fee involved, but we believe that you have too much potential to let go.”

Clarke’s mouth opens or closes once or twice, making strange noises. “I - could we have some time to think about it? It’s been a long night.”

“Of course.” Kane produces a business card from his pocket. “Call us with your decision later this week, if you could, and we can work something out.”

“We will.” Finn takes the card. “Thank you sir.”

Kane gives them a nod and walks off, as though he hasn’t just potentially changed the entire course of their future.

“What the fuck,” Octavia says. “I - we -”

Monty shakes his head. “That just happened. I can’t believe that just happened.”

“We just almost scored a record deal,” Clarke says blankly. “And then we did.”

“We’ve got to tell everyone,” Octavia says. Her mind’s in a whirlwind - how should she tell Bellamy and Lincoln, should they go now, should they take a minute to celebrate first, they placed second -

“I’ll go with you,” Monty volunteers. He gives her a meaningful look, eyes flickering around the rest of the group, and Octavia understands immediately. For all that they’re a five-person group, there’s still a trio at the core, and they’ll need a minute together.

“We’ll head out now,” Octavia says quickly. “You guys can wait a minute, but our crowd is waiting for us, we’ll-”

“Wait!” Finn yanks her in and kisses her cheek. “O, you’re the reason our set worked at all. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Raven pulls Monty into a hug, and Clarke pulls Octavia in and kisses her other cheek. “You’re a hero, O. You’re a better guitarist for this band than I was.”

Monty goes over to Finn, leaving Raven open. She grabs Octavia’s shoulders and plants a firm kiss on her mouth. “You’re spectacular. You’re like a prophet or something, a total godsend.”

“Spreading the gospel of The Sky People?”

“Go tell our people the good news.” Raven smacks her ass.

Octavia laughs and looks at Monty, in the process of pulling away from Clarke. “You ready?”

“Absolutely.” Monty links elbows with her. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

To: Bell (11:47 PM)  
Where are you guys?

From: Bell (11:48 PM)  
Van

From: Bell (11:48 PM)  
You ok?

To: Bell (11:49 PM)  
M and I are coming out now

 

 

 

“Should we pretend to look sad?” Octavia wonders as Monty pushes the door open and the night air hits them. “I mean, we did just lose. If we look all happy they’ll be confused.”

Monty shakes his head. “I can’t pretend to be sad, Jasper knows my fake-sad face. He’ll figure it out. Where’s the van?”

Octavia points. “Straight ahead.” She can hear them talking quietly, but she can’t make out words. “How do we want to tell them, then?”

“What do you mean, how?”

“Like, do we start with ‘We have good news’ or ‘You’ll never guess what happened’ or what?”

Monty shoots her an amused look. “Just telling them would probably work.”

“Okay, let me practice.” Octavia clears her throat and looks at Monty, schooling her face into something serious. “Hey, we just lost the competition, but we were so good that they’re inviting us in to possibly record a demo anyways. Neat, right?”

Behind them, someone gasps. Octavia whips around to see Harper and Monroe holding hands, Harper’s free hand clapped over her mouth and Monroe openly gaping at them.

“Yeah, like that,” Monty says drily. “Hi, H. We have good news.”

“Montgomery Green!” Harper shrieks. Their group by the van goes noticeably silent. Harper drops Monroe’s hand and flies at Monty, nearly knocking him over in the process. “Oh my god oh my god, that’s amazing, what the hell!”

Monroe follows her and hugs Octavia, laughing as she does. “That’s incredible, O!”

Octavia squeezes Monroe as tightly as she can. “I know, I can barely believe it!”

“Honestly!” Monroe looks up, somewhere behind Octavia. “Have you told everyone else yet?”

“No, we were on our way when you intercepted us. They’re going to flip when we tell them-”

“Tell us what?” Bellamy says.

Monroe lets Octavia go so they can turn around. The rest of the group is staring at them, looking utterly baffled. Next to her, Harper lets go of Monty, laughing breathlessly, and spins him around to face the group. Octavia can see Miller and Jasper watching him, and Monty’s face splits into a radiant grin.

Octavia looks at him. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

“You already said it once, it’s my turn.” Monty looks at their small crowd, all watching him expectantly. “So, we lost. Obviously. But afterwards one of the board of directors came and talked to us and told us that he wants us to come in and work with them anyways.”

Everyone goes stunned-silent. Octavia can feel the shock radiating from them all and it makes her smile. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad,” Finn scoffs from behind her. He slings arms around her and Monty’s shoulders. His eyes are red-rimmed, but he’s smiling like the sun. “Try fucking incredible.”

“We still need to work out all the details,” Clarke says, grabbing Octavia’s hand and squeezes, and Raven appears to stand by Monty’s shoulder. “But everything’s looking pretty good right now.”

Raven claps her hands. “Group huddle! Everone c’mere, we’re going to be those assholes who do a chant after they win. Or lose.”

“Both,” Monroe suggests, tugging Harper towards Monty. Their group shifts as people mill around, trying to find their friends to stand by in the huddle. Octavia sees Clarke and Lexa, fused at the lips, and Monty’s people sweeping him up into their own mini-huddle.

“Octavia,” Lincoln says from her side. She turns and her breath catches in her throat because he’s beautiful, and he’s proud, and she didn’t know anyone other than Bellamy could look at her like that. She didn’t know anyone else loved her that much.

She can’t find the words to say that, so she just breathes “Fuck” and surges up to kiss him. He catches her and cradles her face in one hand. She can feel him smiling against her mouth and pulls back to look at it because she’ll never get tired of seeing it. “Thank you for coming.”

Lincoln’s eyes go warm and soft. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Octavia grabs his hand and squeezes him. She drags him to the huddle, where Bellamy’s waiting for them with a grin. He kisses her forehead as soon as she’s in reach. “You earned this,” he whispers. “You did such a good job.”

“All right, kids, listen up,” Raven says from Bellamy’s other side, and everyone goes quiet. “You’re all the best support system a band could ask for, and we owe you all so much.”

“We couldn’t have done this without all of you here with us, and we want to thank you for sticking with us this far.” Clarke smiles, and Lexa gives her a starry-eyed smile. “We’re not done with this journey yet, obviously. We wouldn’t have made it without you guys leading social media campaigns-”

Monty squeezes Jasper’s shoulders.

“-or giving us rides to rehearsal-”

Raven bumps her hip against Bellamy’s.

“-or coming to performances.”

Octavia grins at Fox, nestled between Monroe and Sterling.

“And it’s only going to get better from here. We might not have won tonight, but we have the chance to work harder and get better.”

“So everyone put your hands in the middle so we can do a cheer and go home!” Finn puts his hand in the middle of the huddle, and everyone follows suit. Bellamy catches Finn’s hand and runs his thumb across the back of it, and Maya links her fingers with Octavia’s and she feels -

She feels invincible.

“Raven, you wanna say the cheer?”

“Nah, my voice is shot. You get it.”

Finn grins. “Sky People on me,” he shouts. “Sky People on three! One, two, three!”

“Sky People!” Octavia screams, but she can’t hear herself over the sound of the people she loves.

 

 

 

 **theskypeople**  
Thank you all so much for supporting us tonight. Although we didn’t win, this is far from the end of the road for us. Stay tuned for new projects and opportunities, and plenty of selfies. See you at our next concert - Music Monday at @grounderscoffee this Monday!

therealjasperj, romaforreal, bellblake, and 106 others like this

 **miaohmy** you guys were so good tonight, you should’ve won! i’ll def be @ MM!  
 **hardboiledgreg** U made tswift sound like proper rock, that deserves a demo.  
 **notfinncollins** oh my god what’s happening  
 **noteasybeing_green** @notfinncollins ???  
 **notfinncollins** @noteasybeing_green do we have FANS  
 **rosievelasquez** @notfinncollins well, yeah. you kicked ass at college comp, you earned fans. can i get a follow from my new favorite drummer???  
 **notfinncollins** holy shit  
 **8avia** goddamn, this is cool. we’re like rock stars now.  
 **cgriffin** @8avia No “like” about it. Looks like we made it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TSP's final set list was [Burn It Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bN5AXq4WvZI) by AWOLNATION, [Jet Pack Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtgiP95ikIE) by Fall Out Boy, and Taylor Swift's [Style](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Krro9cEj-k) as covered by Amasic.
> 
> I have to thank all of you who read this. Writing was a blast, and I'm awed that people are enjoying it. (By all means, tell your friends! hahaha) You, the readers, made this experience better through your comments and kudos, and I can't thank you enough.
> 
> I'm always ready to talk about this fic in detail on [tumblr](http://officialseancassidy.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/ofclseancassidy). See you guys next fic!


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